Out of the Ashes
by Twyla Mercedes
Summary: Romantic (maybe a little comedic) Rumbelle set in a modern-day city. A damaged, angry, relationship-shy (& very successful) businessman comes to southern town for rest & relaxation, meets a young, free-spirited bookshop owner & begins an unconventional (mostly uphill) friendship that quickly becomes a little more than just camaraderie. Rated M (mostly for smut)
1. What Fresh Hell?

**What Fresh Hell?**

What the hell had his son gotten him into? He had not wanted to come here.

He had not wanted to go anywhere.

He had only agreed when his son and his doctor had insisted, practically threatening him with involuntary commitment if he didn't agree.

. . .

So he'd had a little breakdown.

. . . Not like it was a big breakdown.

Sure, he'd broken a couple of dishes, some china, some glassware. What was the big deal?

. . .And

He'd taken out his Glock and had done some target practice on the statuary in the gardens.

Blowing the heads off all the female figures.

What was the problem?

_After all, _it was his stuff.

. . .Oh, and he'd tested positive for amphetamines.

And his oxycodone was at a near lethal level at .5.

And his alcohol content was .28.

What was their problem?

Not like he had a problem.

He could quit anytime.

He'd just had enough of everybody else's crap

And kinda lost it.

Things like this happened.

. . .Right?

000-000-000

Belle was ok with the rumors.

They'd all heard the rumors before. The mysterious owner of their building (whom they had long ago started calling 'The Great and Powerful Oz' or GaPOz for short) was going show up unannounced, evict them all, then turn the building into luxury apartments with a forty dollar plus entree restaurant on the ground floor where their shops all were.

They'd been hearing these rumors for years. And nothing ever came of it.

But something was happening now.

For real and for true, something was happening.

Someone had moved in Sunday evening. Moved into the penthouse apartment. There had been people going up and down, up and down, up and down, the stairs (all three flights to the fourth floor) all afternoon into the early evening.

They all knew someone had moved in "up there."

She shrugged. No sense borrowing trouble. She and the others had always paid their rent on time. They never complained about the heating or the cooling or the plumbing or the elevator or anything else; they had just accepted the vagaries of the building as part of its idiosyncratic charm. They were all good tenants.

She doubted it would be "The Landlord," GaPOz. That character was some megagazillionaire and this building was just a tiny fraction of what he owned. He probably didn't even know he owned it, he had so many buildings and enterprises and businesses.

But this could be one of his flunkies. A high priced flunky who was there to check out the earning potential of the building.

Then again, it could just be someone who could afford the rent for the downtown penthouse suite which covered the entire top floor of the building where she lived and worked. Another tenant just like the other tenants. . . except with a lot more money.

A lot more money.

She figured they would meet the new tenant, landlord, flunky or whatever, soon enough.

000ooo000ooo000

Gold had gotten up at five. He always got up at five. He exercised on his stationary bike (it was the only form of exercise his knee could tolerate), shaved and showered. He noticed in the morning light that there was a door that opened onto a roof area. Looked like there was a seating area and a number of lush plants growing under a canopy. There was probably a nice view from there. He would be able to stand out there and smoke a cigarette. They hadn't banned smoking in your own home . . . yet.

_He detected it then. Someone was moving outside on the roof area. _

He looked closely. It was a petite figure.

He saw the rest of what was going on out there on the roof then.

Oh crap, someone in the building had been using his roof area for a garden. The figure was out there tending the garden. Watering the plants. Looked like they might be picking a few ripe somethings or anothers. The figure turned and he could tell it was a female. She looked young. She worked quickly and efficiently and was gone over the side of the building before she noticed he was watching her. _Probably accessing the roof area from the fire escape._

That would have to stop.

He shrugged and went in to make himself coffee and check the financial updates.

Yes, he knew he wasn't supposed to be checking the financial updates, but this had been his life for more than, what now? More than thirty years. He couldn't just go cold turkey on this as well as everything else they had taken away from him. No alcohol, no amphetamines. Hell, Archie had wanted him to give up smoking (like that was going to happen). He knew someone would be dropping by to check on him at random times and if there were any problems, whoosh, off he'd go to an institution, Betty Ford Hospital, or some such rehab place. This was his last fucking chance.

He set the coffee machine up and hit the start button. Nothing happened.

Damn.

He tried it again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Damn, damn, damn.

Try the plug in another receptacle.

Nothing.

Damn.

No coffee.

This new machine was a dud.

So now, he was well and truly desperate.

He pulled out a cigarette to help with the tremors.

Where the hell would he be able to get a cup of coffee in downtown Asheville, North Carolina at 6:30 in the morning?

Ooo000ooo000ooO

Belle was up early. . .as usual. She had been up and worked as quickly and quietly as she could in the roof garden, hoping she wouldn't disturb the new tenant _that didn't sound like the best way to meet him. . . or her_.

Then she was in her shop early. . . as usual. She was busy, getting things tidied up before any customers, for that matter before any of her help, arrived. . . as usual

She couldn't help but notice the man.

Very well dressed, but looking so forlorn.

Lost.

Like a sweet, little puppy. Big brown eyes. Like a really, really cute puppy. Standing outside her window. Looking in. He looked so lost.

She went out to him, leaving her door opened, as she did when the store was opened for business. "Hello sir. You look a little bewildered. Can I help you? Get you a cup of coffee, tea?

"Coffee?" he replied. _Of all the words she had said, that was the one he had heard._

"Absolutely, absolutely. Come on it," she smiled and invited him in.

He followed this vision who promised coffee into her lair. He looked around. This business was on the ground floor of his building. _What was it? Belle's Books and Candles - Ephemera and Supplies for the Practitioner._

_Oh good god, give me a break. _

He looked around. He could see this was a book store that had dedicated a few corners to other stuff. The coffee shop was in one of the corners.

He looked it over with the practiced eye of a businessman. Well designed for optimum use of space. Minimum menu. Easy for staff to manage. Eclectic décor, looked like a mix of cast-off old-fashioned wooden dining room chairs and small tables. Added to the relaxed ambiance.

And in the bookstore proper there were heavy bookshelves to give it that library atmosphere. Lotsa twists and turns (for coziness and maximization of space), but ceiling reflectors to discourage (or catch) shoplifters. The register was also set near the door to reduce shoplifting. Not too bad for a place that looked like it was run by a bunch of ditzies.

_Belle watched him closely while she verbally reviewed the menu for him. He was silent but very watchful, looking over her store – and looking her over, but trying not to look like he was looking her over. _

The pretty brunette with extraordinary blue eyes who had enticed him into her store with a promise of coffee was talking to him.

_What? _

". . . and lattes and espressos and caramel macchiatos. But let me guess. I'm actually good at guessing what kind of coffee people will like. Humm, let's see," she was still talking.

Now he realized that she was looking at him, _really looking_ at him. "Nice suit, really nice," he heard her say. "Nice shoes." _How much longer, oh lord, how much longer? _ "OK, my guess is plain black coffee," she was smiling at him. "No sugar. No milk."

His head hurt.

But he was slightly impressed.

"That's correct," he answered. _Now, just get me the damn coffee, please._

"Would you permit me to introduce you to something new that you may like?" she asked him. "I'll just charge you for a regular cup and if you don't like it, no problem, I'll get your regular coffee for you."

_Whatever it takes to get me coffee, already, dearie. _He nodded.

She worked behind the counter for a few moments, selecting, grinding, brewing. She was brewing regular coffee and making espresso. _She planned to give him one of her best._

_Now she was talking again. _

"This is called an 'extreme long shot.' It's a variation of the Café Americaine. Instead of adding hot water to espresso, I'm adding espresso to brewed coffee and, in your case, I'm giving you a double shot of espresso."

She handed it off to him, "You look like you could use it."

He sniffed it and took a sip. It was hot, a bit too hot to drink.

"My pastries haven't come in yet, so I'm sorry I can't offer you anything to eat. Miss Emma usually gets by about seven, right before I open up officially."

_Good lord, she was still talking. _

She began to brew herself a cup of coffee.

He took a sip and gave the young woman a hard look.

She was concerned. _He looked distressed. _ "Is it all right?" She looked up from the work of fixing herself her own coffee. "Is it too strong? I can fix you a regular cup, if you like."

"Young woman, this is the best tasting cup of coffee, I've ever had. It's like coffee flavored coffee."

She blushed, as if he had given her a personal compliment. _Wow, that was nice . . . and unexpected._

"You called it an 'extreme long shot'?" he asked. He wanted to remember that.

For the rest of his life.

"That's right." He watched as she poured an equal amount of warmed skim milk into her own cup of coffee and scrunched her nose at him.

"You're open at seven every morning?" he asked.

"Sometimes a bit earlier. Coffee I can get you, but the pastries don't come by quite that early. They get here as early as they can from the co-op."

He couldn't help himself. "Do you serve anything else besides coffee and pastries?"

She shook her head, "Not really. Sometimes cookies. My main business is the bookstore and, well, there are a few side things. We started serving coffee a couple of years ago and it has gone really well. People seem to expect to be able to get coffee in a bookstore. If you want a more nutritious breakfast, I would suggest either the Sunny Point Café or the Over Easy Café. I can point you in the direction of either one of those. Now," she surprised him by coming over and sitting down next to him. "I'm Belle, by the way. Are you visiting? here on business? or are you a new resident?"

He found himself looking into her deep blue eyes. She actually seemed genuinely interested.

"I'm here on vacation," he answered. _Well that was more or less the truth._

"_You can take a vacation, you can be committed, or you can die," was what Dr. Hopper had told him._

"_Vacation it is," he'd decided._

_His son had clinched it. "Dad, I've lost my mother. I don't want to lose you too," he'd told him. He'd gone on to assure his father, "Rumplestiltskin Enterprises will keep going without your moment-to-moment involvement. I promise I'll call you once a week and any time there's a problem. But you need to walk away from the power seat, Dad. Go somewhere where they're not asking you to make your deals, wield your magic every day." _

_Well, what else could he do? Bae had suggested that he pick a town and find a building he owned in it and just go there for six weeks. And relax. So he'd thrown a dart at the map and hit this place. Of course he owned a building in the town. He owned a building in just about every town. At least one. _

_So he'd sent people ahead to help with the move-in phase and here he was. _

_It was late June and now he was stuck in the mountains of North Carolina._

_For forty-two days._

"Vacation, delightful. First time here?" she asked.

_Damn, she was chatty._

"Yes," he answered.

"How long will you be here?"

_Nosey, too. _

"About six weeks," he answered.

"So, you'll be here for Bele Chere, then. Now are you here with your wife?" she was continuing to invade his privacy.

_Was there no end to her inquisitiveness?_

"I'm alone," he replied.

"Really?" she seemed to be a little distressed. "Where are you staying?"

_Was she going to offer additional services as a tour guide? A caterer? A whore? _

This time he hesitated. He was her landlord, after all. He didn't know if he was quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

"I have a nice place," he told her.

"Oh, I just wondered if you might be my landlord. Or if you were acquainted with him. Someone moved in upstairs yesterday."

If he hadn't had years of experience in the financial world dealing with corporate attorneys, real estate moguls, business magnates and other land sharks, he might have flinched.

_Good guess, girl. _

Thankfully, he was spared additional conversation with The Little Ray of Sunshine when a pretty blonde carrying a large box breezed in.

"Gotcha stuff," the blonde announced and his Little Bubble of Energy gave him a last smile and rose to take the box. Money exchanged hands and the box was opened and its contents distributed behind a glass display case.

"These all look amazing, like always," Now, the Little Chirping Chipmunk was talking with the blonde delivery woman.

"We're still on for Wednesday?" the blonde asked.

"Girls Night In, like always," he heard her answer.

The blonde waved and went on her way, apparently making a series of early morning deliveries. He began to surreptitiously watch the petite brunette bookstore owner. She was dressed in a long flowing skirt which she had knotted to take up some of the length. On top, she wore just a plain tank top and a silver necklace. Long, dangly earrings. Minimum of make-up - he guessed, although he thought that she still looked red-carpet worthy. He couldn't help but notice she had delicate feet with painted toenails encased in simple sandals. There was a soft curve to her hip and a gentle swell to her breasts. Her skin looked like porcelain. She had wrapped her hair around and it was pinned on top of her head. Oh lord? did she have feathers in her hair? He felt an unfamiliar tightening in his lower extremities while he looked at her.

_Good grief man. Get a grip on yourself. She's probably younger than Bae. And a pretty thing like this would certainly have a husband or boyfriend or somebody keeping her. At any rate she wouldn't possibly be interested in a dried up stump like yourself . . .well, not unless she found out about his money._

_Belle noticed he was still looking at her, and still trying not to look at her. Nice looking man. Very well dressed. Looked like deep pockets. Gorgeous brown eyes. Carried a cane. She had noticed a bit of a limp. Probably her father's age. Attractive, though. Very attractive. Extraordinary hands, long supple fingers. And an accent, something from the British Isles, either Irish or Scottish; she couldn't tell the difference. Emanated strength. Power. A dark power, but that was just her imagination running away with her._

In came a tall, young woman, dressed in hot pants and a tank top. Her long dark hair was streaked with unnatural colors and her long nails were painted with a variety of brilliant colors. "Morning, Belle," the young woman called out and went behind the coffee counter. She wrapped a brilliantly colored apron around herself. It looked to him like there were little dogs and small bones set on a plaid background as part of the apron pattern. It was amazingly hideous.

He was surprised when Belle popped a scone down in front of him. "Cinnamon," she said as way of explanation. _He had looked hungry to her. _She scrunched up her nose at him again and went off, dusting and rearranging things around the shop. Getting ready to open.

The scone was good, still warm like it had come from the oven. He sat quietly drinking his amazing coffee and watching the store owner flit about. When customers started to drift by, he decided it was time to go. He waited until she was in the back of the shop and, more or less, sneaked out, wanting to avoid any additional conversation.

He left a hundred on the table.

Ruby found it.

"Belle!" she had cried out.

Belle had quickly come over, halfway expecting to hear that he'd stiffed them when she saw Ruby holding up Benjamin Franklin.

_Well, well. This was unexpected. _

_She wondered if she'd ever see him again._

00oo—oo00oo—oo00

He walked around the remainder of the day. It was not what he'd expected. The damn city was built in the mountains and the streets went up and down steep inclines. It wasn't easy going for a man with a bad knee. He often had to stop and rest.

Not only were the streets a pain to navigate on foot but it was hot.

When he was able to find a place in the shade to sit, he found that he was actually a bit blown away by the town. Very different from most of the places he frequented. A lot of old buildings with, well, he guessed he'd call them quaint shops. _Not a fan of quaint shops. _The women were often dressed much like the little bookshop owner; it looked like it was some kind of Asheville uniform. There were a lot of art stores, and odd clothing stores and many little restaurants tucked into nooks and crannies. And a fair share of bars. He managed to avoid the bars and find lunch at a place called Limones (he got the tenderloin), then continued exploring the town.

By early evening, both legs were hurting him pretty fiercely. His knee was on fire, and he was leaning heavily against his cane. He'd almost gone through a pack of cigarettes and popped about six of his Tramadol (Archie had jerked him off the Oxycodone after The Incident). He had managed, with some effort, to stumble up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. The building had an elevator, but it had never worked during his ownership. None of the tenants had ever complained.

He'd make a call.

He wanted it repaired asap.

He looked in his fridge, his freezer and his cupboard. They had been well stocked. Canned soups, Lean Cuisines, sundry other bachelor foods. He opened a can of soup, found some crackers, fixed a cup of tea and sat in the quiet dark to eat his supper. There was a knock at the door.

_He wasn't expecting anyone._

_Go away._

They knocked again.

_Go away, damn you._

And again.

_They weren't going away. _

_Damn._

When he got up, he realized that his knee had tightened up and was determined to give him grief. He grabbed his cane and limped over to the door and cautiously opened it, leaving the chain on it.

It was Little Miss Sunshine.

Belle was surprised to see him. _He looked tired, worn. _ "Well hello. So it was you who moved up here in our building. I'm just bringing you a Welcome to the Building Basket" and she held up a covered basket. _Was he going to let her in? _She gave him a big smile.

He considered. He so wanted to be rude and send her off. He didn't want any welcoming baskets. He didn't want any company. He didn't want to open the door.

_But she was his coffee supplier._

_And it was really good coffee._

He opened the door.

She breezed on in. "I'm sure you've noticed the garden we started on your patio. We can get up here using the fire escape. We wanted some fresh produce and no one had been here in the apartment for years, so we went ahead and planted some tomatoes and peppers and a couple of herbs. I hope you don't mind. I'm going to go ahead and water the plants right now. I also come early in the morning but I'll continue to use the fire escape so I won't disturb you. Of course, you're welcome to take what you need."

She'd set the basket on his kitchen table. She looked then and saw his soup bowl, the crackers and his cup of tea. She seemed a little embarrassed.

"I've interrupted your supper, haven't I? I'm so sorry. I have the worst timing."

She looked more closely at his supper and pulled a face. "You know there is this amazing gastropub in this building. Why don't I have them send up their special? I think today it's black eyed pea cakes topped with tofu steak and their own Hollandaise Sauce. Delish."

"Tofu steak?" he questioned.

"They're vegan," she explained. "Really awesome food. I promise you, even if you are a meat eater."

"Yuck, I mean yum," he said, unconvincingly.

"More yum than canned soup and crackers," she admonished him. She hesitated, clearing her throat, "Maybe I can treat you out of that hundred dollar bill you left this morning."

He flicked his eyes to hers. She had tilted her face and was giving him the slightest smile, like a mother might give a child who had behaved a little rambunctiously, but was still loved unconditionally.

"You're on vacation. Try something new," she talked softly, persuasively.

What the hell. Why not let her get him the quasi-food, leave and he could go back to his soup? No feelings hurt. Everything copasetic. _Good lord, she wouldn't want to join him for supper! Would she? That would be awful. _

_Wouldn't it?_

"Listen, I can order it for you and have it brought up," she said.

_She was still talking._

"I'll leave you in peace, if you promise me you'll try it. If you don't like it you can go back to your lack-luster tasteless canned soup with all of its BPH's and your high-sodium, high-fat crackers."

_Belle heard herself and cringed. Whatever was she thinking? Talking to him like he was some old friend. Or some young friend. This man was old enough to be her father. He could be their landlord. He, at least, almost certainly had some connection with the GaPOz. He could probably arrange to have them all kicked them all out of their homes, their shops. And here she was, trying to push him around._

"Promise, you'll leave?" _This is what he wanted. _

_Wasn't it?_

"Yes, if you'll try it," she cajoled him. _She wondered if she was flirting with him._

"Would you stay if I said I wouldn't try it?" _What the hell? Why did he ask that? Was he flirting with her? Good lord, what must he be thinking? She was half his age._

Belle laughed. "If you want company, I'll be happy to bring two dinners up here, but only if that's what you want." _She wouldn't mind having supper with him. Those brown eyes in the half-light were dark and mysterious. His accent was warming. _

He hesitated. He was not going there. He needed peace and quiet. That's why he was here. He didn't need company from a young woman half his age.

A flakey young woman half his age.

A gorgeous, flakey young woman half his age.

"I promise to try it if you'll leave me in peace," he finally managed to get out.

She was on her smart phone in a heartbeat. _He was a little surprised she had a cell phone. Somehow he'd thought she'd be relying on a rotary dial phone with a mechanical ringer._

"Jeff, it's Belle. One special, upstairs, top floor. Make it your best. It's for the new tenant, in the penthouse," he heard her say. Then she glanced at him, "Uh uh. . . . . . . Uh hum. . . . . . . . Uh uh. . . . . . . . Hummmm, well, I'd say eight.. . . . All right, Jeff. Thanks." She clicked her phone off and smiled at him. "Ten minutes."

"Wonderful," he said without enthusiasm.

Belle went on out to water the plants. He followed her and surveyed the gardening effort. Tomatoes, peppers, maybe some eggplant. There were cucumbers, beans, and squash. Some other little green plants he assumed were herbs. A lot of stuff in a little space. He watched her go about the business of watering the plants. He stood in silence watching her for a while. She didn't chatter as she worked with the garden. He was surprised, as much as she talked that she could manage silence, too. It was a rare gift.

He finally broke it. "He was asking about me?"

"Oh yes," she was smiling again as she worked among the vegetables. "Wanted me to tell them if you have admitted to being the landlord, if you seemed to be a nice guy, if you'd shared any future plans for the building with me, and," she almost seemed to be blushing. She did manage to look him squarely in the eye. "And where you rated on a hotness scale."

"Eight out of a hundred?" he had to ask.

"Out of ten. I don't know you well enough to give you a nine or a ten." She suddenly seemed a bit shy. _Why did she say eight? The man was a fourteen. _ "Listen, there's all kind of stuff in the basket for you, some fruit, some coupons, but," she looked at him a bit embarrassed again. _The man was obviously rich. _ "I don't suppose you use coupons, do you?"

"I use coupons all the time," he reassured her. _He never used coupons. _

_That was nice of him to say. _"Well there're also some brochures on what to do, where to go, touristy things. And some food and some. . . other things. Just a welcome basket. They'll be bringing up your supper in just a moment. I'm going to leave you in peace."

She finished up in the garden and started out his front door.

He called after her, "Hey!"

She stopped.

He felt a little awkward. "I will be able to get another extreme long shot tomorrow morning, won't I? My coffee maker isn't working and I didn't get around to getting a new one today."

She gave him the biggest, sunniest smile yet. "Of course. But you have to promise me you'll just pay for the coffee and leave a reasonable tip. I thought Ruby was going to have a stroke this morning and I can't afford to lose her. She's the best barista in a twenty block area, which for this town, is saying something."

She opened the door at the same time a lanky young man was about to knock.

"Just leaving, Jeff," she stepped out and then began to make introductions. "Oh yeah," she turned back to him, "This is Jefferson, he runs the gastropub downstairs. We call him Jeff. And Jeff, this is the new tenant who may or may not be our landlord, who has not yet told me his name," Belle looked over at him expectantly.

He winced just slightly. "I'm kinda vacationing incognito, if you don't mind. Why don't you just call me, Mr. uhm. . .uhm. . " _stuck for a nom de voyage._

Belle looked at him. "Mr. Cash?"

"Sure, that will do." _And close enough to what most people called him to be slightly unnerving. _

And she was gone.

Jeff was smiling at this point. "This stuff will kill you, sir."

_He'd gotten 'sir-ed.'_

And Jeff swept aside the soup and crackers. He continued on, "Now this is one of our best sellers. We started making it at New Year's, serving it along with greens, and I kept it on our special's menu because we have so many requests. I had to substitute another vegetable because of the time of year. Today, I'm bringing you some cornbread, a nice side salad and some savory sautéed cabbage. All organic, of course. I make the dressing for the salad myself." He set out two plates of food on the table, along with cutlery and a cloth napkin. He looked with approval at the original choice of beverage and stepped back from the table. "I think you'll like it, sir. Even if you're a meat eater, this is pretty good stuff."

And Jeff was gone.

He was alone.

Finally.

He debated, should he try the stuff and then go back to his soup? Or should he just _say _he tried the stuff and go back to his soup? _He had promised Miss Sunshine. _

Reluctantly, he forked off a piece of the tofu (_tofu steak, indeed _ _- thank god he's had the real thing for lunch already_) and got a piece of the black-eyed pea cake. He closed his eyes and funneled them into his mouth.

. . .

_Well, not the worst he'd ever had. He was expecting drywall or cardboard, but it was better than both of those. _He took another bite. _Okay, it was actually edible._ He tried the cabbage. _That was decent, too. _

He slowly ate the entire meal, except the salad. He couldn't handle the salad. Fresh, raw vegetables. _No, thank you. _He scraped the plates and put them into the dishwasher. He then took his tea, one last Tramadol and his pack of cigarettes and went to sit out on his balcony. There was a green, healthy smell coming from the garden; there was something just a little sweet and lemony perfuming the air that was growing there. It was still light. He opened the cigarette pack, took out the last one, lit it and slowly smoked and sipped his tea while watching the lights and listening to the sounds of the city. He sat until it became dark. He went back in and watched the evening news and went to bed.

_One day down. Forty-one days to go._


	2. Fourteen

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Two**

**Fourteen**

She was waiting for him.

She had actually put on a little lipstick and combed her hair. She wanted to look her best. _Not sure why. After all, the guy was two times her age, probably had a hundred times more money (a thousand times more money?) than she had and couldn't possibly be interested in her. She knew he wasn't married, but he probably had a dozen gorgeous women on call for anytime he wanted. . . well anytime he wanted company . . . or anything. _

She already had the beans ground and as soon as she saw him, she started the coffee. _Wow, she couldn't help but think, Wow. He dressed amazingly. Like super rich, like very stylish. She'd never thought that she'd go for A Suit, but he made it look so fine._

As he came in on into the bookstore, he sat at the same table he'd sat in the day before. He noticed that Ruby was already in. Today her apron had huge teeth set on a striped background. _Where did she find these aprons? Was there a hideous apron store where she shopped?_

"What do you have on tap for today?" Belle asked him handing him the coffee and a blueberry scone and then sitting down by him. She propped her chin onto her hand and leaned forward.

"Probably what I did yesterday," he answered, trying not to be distracted by the hint of shadow at her cleavage.

"Just walk around town?" _Sounded kind of sad and lonely to her._

"I didn't get everywhere," he apologized. _God, she smelled good. Like soap and sugar. And her hair glinted in the morning sun. Was she wearing. . . lipstick?_

She sighed. "Let me at least suggest some places for lunch. You like Indian?" And without waiting for him to reply, Belle continued, "I'd suggest Chai Pani. It's on Battery Park Avenue. Indian street food. The best. Are you interested in Jeff's special tonight? I checked his on-line menu and it's supposed to be his savory meatloaf with marinara and potato latkas. I've had that and it's really good. I can let him know to bring you up supper at seven if you'd like."

He just gazed at her. _How did she have so much energy for chit chat this time of day? Any time of day? _

_Unwittingly the thought came into his mind: how much energy would she bring to bed? _

He blinked and answered her supper question, "Sure." _Why the hell not? Easier than dealing with Hurricane Belle. He could always go back to his canned soup and crackers if it was grotie. _

At that moment a drop dead gorgeous brunette, wearing the Asheville skirt, tank top and a light-weight open-worked (knitted or crocheted?) vest, with beaded fringe no less, breezed in and Belle popped up to attend to her. "Belle, got my order ready?"

"Absolutely, Mary Margaret. Emma dropped the stuff off and I've done you the tea and the latte for your group."

"Blessed be, blessed be." The pretty brunette gave her a hug. As she was waiting for Belle to get the food box and beverages together, she glanced around the store and her eyes lit on Gold.

She went over to Belle and asked in a very quiet voice, "Is that him?"

Belle looked up and followed the brunette's glance. "Yes ma'am, second morning in a row. Came in for my extreme long shot."

"Well, well, well. You were thinking an eight. He's not even my type," Mary Margaret was keeping company with the handsome deputy mayor, a big hulking blond fellow, "but I'd say easily a nine," she murmured, letting her eyes trail up and down the man. She made eye contact and smiled at him.

_What was with all these happy people? Always smiling. Always perky. Always annoying. _

He didn't try to give her a smile back. He hadn't smiled in. . . well, it had been a while. A long while. He had not had any reason to smile with a crazy wife and all the ugly publicity that had accompanied the crazy, ugly divorce.

There had been cameras and nasty publicity, horrendous allegations, spiteful claims and just plain mean statements that were published daily in all of the disreputable tabloids and even some of the half-ass reputable tabloids. Hell, before it was all over, they'd made a small corner on the cover of _People. _

The publicity had been as hard as the divorce and money shredding that followed. He had always believed you should only be in the newspaper three times in your life, when you were born, when you married and when you died. His ex-wife, however, thrived on the media's presence, played to it, seemed to be nurtured by it. And she sought coverage at every turn.

Still sought it.

_He knew that many of his staff had rallied to his side and protected him from the worst of the newspaper and magazine junk articles that were put out. They often assured him that no matter how objectionable things were, people who read this trash would forget about it as soon as the next scandal broke. _

_And thank god, his son had stood by him, rejecting his mother's claims and downplaying her outbursts and accusations of maltreatment at his hands. He was well rid of her, despite the cost. Hell, it had been worth the cost. Every god damn penny. He knew Bae still had contact with his mother but it wasn't on a regular basis – she hadn't wanted that and Bae wouldn't be one to push for it._

"Mr. Cash, this is Mary Margaret Snow. She owns _Pins and Needles_, the yarn shop next door."

"Miss Snow," he nodded. _Oh yeah, he was her landlord, too._ _Her shop and her apartment were both in his building._

"It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Cash. I hope you're having a wonderful time here."

He just nodded at her again.

"I'd stay and chat, but this is _Tudor Rose Day_," she said as if that explained and excused everything.

_Why would she think he'd want her to stay and chat?_

Mary Margaret picked up the packages that Belle had prepared and went on out the shop.

He sat quietly. He didn't ask, he wouldn't ask.

Belle was watching him with a smile on her face. "Well?"

"Well what?" he groused out.

"Aren't you going to ask 'What is _Tudor Rose Day'_?' "

He leaned back, a mere hint of a suggestion of an insinuation of a smile gracing his lips. "I figured you would tell me," he replied truthfully.

Belle gave a throaty laugh. "The _Tudor Rose_ is the penultimate knitting project."

His face remained passive.

"It's like cooking through _The Art of French Cooking_," Belle explained.

When he continued to look puzzled, Ruby joined in, "Eating the entire Mega Burrito at Papa's and Beer."

When he continued to look bewildered, Belle sat a moment, then brightened up, "Completing the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs."

"Parsec is a unit of distance," he said, shaking his head. "But if I'm following you, this is doing something that is considered quite difficult, like running a four-minute mile or conducting Mahler's Second Symphony or Le Sacre du Printemps."

Belle nodded, "I guess. It's considered the most difficult of knitting projects and every accomplished knitter wants to do it, has to do it. Mary Margaret has a group that comes in every Tuesday. They are working on it and supporting each other. It's great for me, because they are prodigious drinkers of coffee and tea and they really get the munchies. We'll have a buzz run at about 11:30."

He raised his eyebrows. "A buzz run?"

"More coffee," Belle clarified. "And carb snacks."

"Yeah, I figured," he looked up. Other customers were starting to drift in. He got up. This time, he caught her eye and laid a twenty on the table. _It was still too much, but he was enjoying being generous with the little bookstore owner. _ "I'll keep this Indian restaurant in mind for lunch, on Battery Park Avenue, right?"

This time he left knowing her eyes were on him.

_It felt good. _

_She thought he was an eight._

_He thought she was a fourteen._

Ooo000ooo000ooO

He continued to walk, well more like limp, around the streets of Asheville, discovering little places he had missed before. And lunch at the little Indian restaurant was amazing. By late afternoon he had wandered into Jeff's gastropub, The Rabbit Hole. Jeff was behind the counter and greeted him, "Mr. Cash. What can I get for you?"

Gold surveyed the wall of choices.

_He remembered. Dr. Hopper had not wanted him to have alcohol, any alcohol, any amount of alcohol. _

_Well, Dr. Hopper wasn't here._

_And you don't always get what you want. _

Looked like this place specialized in beer.

"I'm a little overwhelmed," he admitted.

"Well, tell me what kind of beer you like," Jefferson directed him.

"Guinness," Gold responded. _He really didn't have a preference. That was the first beer brand that came into his head. Actually, something, anything in a bottle would do him._

"Ah, let me let you try this one, this one and . . . definitely this one." He handed over three samples.

"This one is a from a Florida brewery, Swamphead. It's called Midnight Oil," Jeff expounded on the merits of each sample. "And this one is Highland Oatmeal Porter, a very popular local beer and this one is Jack of the Wood Stout, also a great local beer. They have their own bar down on Patton Avenue."

Gold sat and slowly sampled, savoring each one. He remarked, "These are all very good." He debated a moment, but having had years of experience in making important, quick decisions, he said, "I'll have the Jack of the Wood Stout."

"Excellent choice." And Jefferson carefully poured him a glass.

"What did you think of the tofu steak last night?" Jefferson asked him. "Be honest, I can take it."

Gold hesitated, "Not as bad as I thought it was going to be."

Jeff laughed. "High praise from a carnivore. I think you'll like the meatloaf special we're having tonight."

Gold sipped his beer, wanting the experience to last as long as he could. "Tell me, it isn't really meatloaf is it?" He had his suspicions.

"Of course not, but I still think you might like it."

"OK, Miss Belle will be calling you to have it sent up to my room, so go ahead."

"Seven o'clock?"

"Please," Gold confirmed. He paused, carefully considering his next question, not entirely sure of what direction he might be going with it. He hesitated but finally asked, "Is uh. . . is Miss Belle seeing anyone?"

Jefferson stood behind the bar and scrutinized Gold carefully. Finally he answered, "She's all alone, Mr. Cash. Right now her whole life is caught up in her business. She inherited it from her father and really turned it around. She works from early morning to late at night."

Jefferson continued, "She's pretty amazing. Gives back to the community, too. Sponsors all kinds of beginning artists and writers. All the art work she has displayed is for sale. Hell, she's made me put up some the stuff," he nodded at the walls of the pub. "and then she often has readings on Saturday night, local writers – the place is packed then and people buy stuff from her. Then they often end up here afterwards. So it's good all around for both of us."

He shook his head, still lauding Belle, "She took on an eighteen year old runaway whose rich boyfriend got her pregnant and whose family threw her out. Ashley has a room in the back of the store and works there a couple days of the week for board and a little spending cash. I've got her working in the kitchen since she's too young to work the bar - and too pregnant. Belle got her into virtual school so she can earn her diploma. Oh yeah, then there's Susie and Darwin. You probably haven't met them yet."

Gold shook his head.

"Rescued cats. They had been mistreated and were wild and mean. The shelter thought that they were unsalvageable, but, of course, Belle took them on. They're still the unfriendliest animals. Unpredictable. They seem to hate everyone on sight, except, of course Belle, but she feeds them. Occasionally she lets one of them hang out in the shop during the day just to see how they manage."

Jefferson wiped down the bar in front of Gold. He didn't say anything for a while allowing Gold to sip his beer. Finally, Jefferson spoke up, "She likes you. If you asked her out, I think she'd go."

Gold was raising his beer to his mouth and stopped. _Yeah_. _That was what he was wanting to know. _

_But shit! What the hell was he thinking? The chit was just above being a child. And how many times did he have to tell himself that she was way too young for him. Not to mention, she was way too pretty. And he didn't need another pretty female in his life. All the pretty females in his life had turned out to be bitches. Royal bitches._

_Well it wasn't like this was going to become anything serious. He had just gotten out of The World's Ugliest Relationship and certainly didn't want to jump back into anything except maybe a casual fling. Was Belle a casual fling sort of girl? _

_He somehow didn't think so. For that matter, he wasn't a casual fling kind of guy. He wasn't sure what he should do._

_Probably best not to do anything._

_There, that was the thing to do. Not do anything. _

_He'd made up his mind. He would not ask her out. It would just turn out to be too, too complicated. And he needed to simplify his life right now._

Having made a decision, he sat and savored the rather excellent beer.

0000-oo-oo-oo-0000

Belle stopped by his place that evening. He'd been sitting comfortably in his custom Ekornes chair, rubbing his leg. The pain was back, but not quite as bad as it had been yesterday. He'd still had to pop a Tramadol or four. Probably shouldn't have mixed the pain pills with alcohol – that was part of what had gotten him into trouble last time. He made it up and opened the door for her.

"Just wanting to see how your day went," she told him as she breezed through. "And water the babies." She was headed out to the roof garden.

"I went to Chai Pani for lunch. It was excellent. I went to Jeff's for a beer. It was excellent. I ate the meatloaf. Uhhhh. . . it was adequate."

"So a pretty good day?"

He thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so." It actually had been a pretty good day. It had been so long since he'd had a pretty good day. It had been hard to recognize it.

"Great," she told him and went on out to the roof garden to take care of the plants.

He reseated himself and from his vantage, he watched her move about on the roof garden. She was an amazing combination of coordination and clumsiness. She held the hose out and would move delicately from one watering position to another, but then, at some point, she would trip over the hose. That happened twice. She would carefully make sure that every square inch of the ground the plants were in got their fair share of water and then she would turn with the spraying hose and get water all over one of the glass doors, later it was one of the chairs and then finally it was the small dining table that had been placed on the roof.

Belle was feeling increasingly nervous. She felt that he was watching her and was a source of amusement for him. She kept making stupid mistakes, tripping over the hose, spraying things that weren't meant to be sprayed.

_She felt as if he was putting up with her. She knew she was much younger. . . and much poorer than he was - much, much poorer. He probably was used to sophisticated society debutantes, beauty queens, starlets, and finishing school misses. Women who got their hair done and their nails done. He couldn't possibly be interested in someone like herself. She grew her own herbs and made her own jewelry. He probably thought she was a flake and only tolerated her company because she made him his coffee. _

Once she came back inside, she soothed down her skirt and was clearly preparing to leave. He walked her to the door, cleared his throat and began, "Miss Belle." _He found himself being propelled down the path of idiocy. He was, despite all his well-rehearsed, solidly based arguments against it, yes, he was going to ask her out. Oh, and this was not going to be easy. He had not asked anyone out in a very long time. And he was continuously, painfully, and very, very conscious of the damn age difference._

"Uh, tomorrow, uh, tomorrow evening?" he began. _What was wrong with him? He took down mega-million dollar companies without a pause, bestowed endowments on little deserving businesses without hesitation, faced down vicious contract attorneys with a twinkle in his eye, but this little sparkly-eyed brunette had gotten him stammering like a school boy. _He cleared his throat again, "I was wondering if. . . you. . . perhaps. . . you might want to go and have supper somewhere with me? I would appreciate you recommending somewhere. . . " he faltered and dropped off seeing her expression, trailing off, "and we could go together. . . out. . . tomorrow evening."

Belle looked stricken for a moment. _He had just asked her out! _"Oh dear. Wednesday. . . " she started talking fast. "I. . .I have a standing date."

_Of course she did. What had he been thinking? Well, that was that._

But she was continuing to talk, "So any evening except Wednesday, I could go! I would go!" she assured him.

_Wait, had she just accepted him?_

She paused and started talking again, "Listen, I often take Thursdays off. Maybe we could spend some time together then. I could show you some sights. We could do the whole Biltmore thing and eat at Rezaz." She was speaking rapidly, trying to cover embarrassment.

He couldn't help himself. "Another vegetarian restaurant?"

"No, a Mediterranean one. Superior falafel," she told him.

"All right. Then can I pick you up first thing Thursday morning?" _He'd have to do a little research to find out what 'the whole Biltmore thing' was._

Belle smiled at him. "Excellent. Seven o'clock. We'll get breakfast. Look forward to it." She scrunched her nose up at him and left him alone.

00000000ooooo000000000

Belle stood outside of the man's door. _Oh god, he'd asked her out on a date! _She could hardly breathe. What would she wear? What did she have to wear on a date with a hot, rich guy?

Then self-doubt hit her. What if he didn't think this was a date? What if he just could use the company and she was handy and knew the area?

She realized she was hyperventilating.

She really needed to start meditating again.

Or medicating.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_She'd said yes. _

_This was nice. _

_She'd said yes. _

_It had been easy._

_Sort of. _

_She'd said yes. _

_He was going to go on a date with Belle._

Oh god! He was going on a date with Belle!

Then self-doubt hit him. Was she thinking it was a date? Or was she just keeping a lonely old man company because she was such a nice, thoughtful person?

He went out to sit outside in the rooftop garden, smelling lemon, and smoking his last cigarette for the day. He noticed he had one left in the pack.

_Two days down, Forty days to go. _

**A.N. Wow what a wonderful reception the first chapter got. I'm writing about a town I know and love (although I don't actually live there). Many of the places (actually most of the places) are real and are mentioned with genuine affection. This will likely be mostly fluff (not the gut-wrenching anguish we've gotten recently accustomed to seeing on the show). The next chapter will have a couple of new characters introduced. **

**Thanks to all those who are following and favoriting and a special thank you to my wonderful reviewers: Tinuviel Undomiel, Leafena, Kat (Guest), MyraValhallah, FuckingNameChoise, (anonymous) Guest #1, AngelofDarkness1605, Anonymous Nerd Girl, The Prince's Phoenix, Attracted2Insanity, Hermitess (twice), Booth ****Seeley Booth. ****Girlyemma96,**** (anonymous) Guest #2 and ****Grace5231973. thx txm**

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	3. Girl's Night In

**Out of the Ashes**

**Chapter Three**

**Girl's Night In**

0000-ooooo-0000

It was Wednesday morning. Ruby and Emma had both noticed that Belle had started taking some extra care with her personal appearance. Her clothes matched. Her hair was put up with some care. She'd touched up her toenail polish. She wore a little lipstick and, was that mascara? They looked at each other and then looked at Gold, but didn't say anything.

Gold watched from his usual seat in the bookstore's cafe as first Ruby and then Emma went by Belle and said, "Girl's Night In." Mary Margaret had dashed by and from the doorway, giving a thumbs up, also said, "Girl's Night In." He caught of glimpse of the runaway girl; at least, he assumed it was her, a young, pregnant girl who appeared to adore Belle. Another one for "Girl's Night In."

He caught Belle's eye. She gave him a little smug smile, "You're wanting to know what 'Girl's Night In' is, aren't you?"

Again, just the vaguest hint of a suggestion of a smile. "I figured you'd tell me," he told her.

"No big deal. Some of my friends just get together at my place. It's probably what you think. Pizza and beer or cheese and wine or chocolates with Cabernet Sauvignon. We watch stuff on TV or rent a movie, we drink, there's girl talk, we let our hair down, just have a good time together."

"No men allowed, I suppose?" he questioned her.

"It's not a rule. You thinking about dropping by?" she asked him with a smile. "We all like men. And you being GaPOz or GaPOz's hireling and all, well, you'd be welcome." She brought him an apple spice scone.

For Gold, Wednesday morning was pretty much like Monday and Tuesday mornings had been. Excellent coffee. A lunch recommendation: Heiwa Shokudo on North Lexington Avenue, get the bento box and the barley tea.

Yeah, pretty much like Monday and Tuesday mornings.

Except that this morning before he left the bookstore, he met one of The Cats. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and turned expecting to find his ex-wife or her queen-bitch attorney or any number of people who'd made deals with him that had gone sour. There it was. A solid black animal with orange-gold eyes, looking straight at him. The cat had come around one of the corners at the book store, had spotted him and froze. He stared back at the cat. Yeah, the cat did kinda remind him of his wife's attorney. He recognized a killing machine when he saw one.

The cat, in turn, seemed to recognize him as a fellow predator, a worthy adversary and, without blinking, it ambled over to him, and began to rub against his leg.

Ruby caught the action (today she had on an apron covered with large dots that, upon closer inspection were actually renderings of hamburgers). She watched the cat and quietly called over to Belle, who also watched in amazement.

Gold absently petted the sleek, silky fur of the cat who sat for a bit and rubbed his head up against Gold's hand. Satisfied that they had given each other a fair assessment and due respect, the cat walked away, intent on his own agenda.

The two women looked at each other but didn't say anything.

Gold deposited his usual twenty on the table and left for his morning excursions. He was still feeling his knee and was still popping his pain meds but he felt he might be getting stronger as his walking tours had gotten further away from the center point. He went with Belle's lunch recommendation. He spend most of the morning on Lexington Avenue and Broadway Street. He found the restaurant and returned to it at lunch time. The bento box was excellent (except, of course, the salad). The barley tea was a new experience for him, tasted a bit like dirt. Wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

He then made his way up the hill and he spent some time in the Pack Center museums (it was cool in there) but, well, it was a museum. He felt proud that he hadn't given into the beer temptation, walking by several bars on his way around town.

By early evening he climbed the stairs back to his penthouse. The elevator was still being worked on. They had let him know that they had had to order a part for the antiquated machinery. As soon as he entered the apartment, he was able to deduce by the water trails that Belle had been by earlier. _Probably had come up the fire escape._

That meant that she wasn't going to come by later.

Supper was delivered promptly at seven, not by Jefferson but one of the young men he had waiting tables – was it Billy? It was after the vegan BLT with homemade spicy brown mustard and homemade potato chips supper when Gold decided that he would give Belle an evening visit. _She wouldn't be coming by to see him, after all. _

_And maybe, maybe he missed her company. He'd never gotten lonely before, although he had been alone much of the time. It was an odd feeling. . . loneliness._

He made a call and found out which of the four apartments belonged to her and went downstairs. The other three apartments were homes for Emma, Mary and Jefferson.

Honestly, Gold wasn't planning to stay. The little bit Belle had told him about Girl's Night In was that it was an estrogen-fest and it was some kind of regular Wednesday night thing. He assumed, as Belle had said, that the women would rent a movie and buy a pizza. He had brought a bottle of wine and some cheese and crackers. He honestly meant it as a kind gesture, as a little 'thank you' was hoping this would work for everyone. He didn't intend for anything else to happen.

Belle cracked the door, saw it was him, squealed, and immediately opened the door.

"I don't want to come in, I know you have guests. . . " he began.

"Oh, no, no, no. You have to come in." She reached out, garnered a death grip on his arm and pulled him in. There, in the small living room, lit with candles, was Mary Margaret, Emma, Ruby and several other women that Gold didn't know. They were all sitting on pillows on the floor around a small sized flat screened television.

"Everybody, for those of you who don't know him already, this is Mr. Cash. He hasn't admitted it, but I'm pretty sure that he's the GaPOz or at least his minion," Belle introduced him and giggled. Gold realized that she was tipsy. "He has come bearing gifts." She held up the wine, cheese and crackers.

He was greeted with cheers and applause.

Emma, the pretty blonde who delivered pastries, patted the pillow next to her, "Come, come. You must join us."

"Oh yes, please, please stay," Mary Margaret agreed.

_All these women were tipsy._

_And really very pretty. _

Belle steered him over to the pillow by Emma and helped him get down on to it. _Good lord, nothing like a roomful of attractive women to get a man sitting on the floor._

He felt completely unsure of himself. _A very unfamiliar feeling._

"We're about to start watching the trashiest TV show, ever. It's our absolute favorite," Emma told him. "We watch it every Wednesday night."

Mary Margaret spoke up, "_Mind Over Milah_."

Belle explained, "The woman's a trainwreck. The most selfish, most petted, most self-involved woman. But, I have to admit it, she's gorgeous."

"Milah?" Gold asked. _No, it couldn't be! This was what that last little deal had been about?! He'd funded this silly little program and had gotten her a neglected timeslot on this up and coming network he'd had some involvement with. He had done it hoping it would keep her busy and out of his hair. _

The show came on. The woman of focus was an extremely well preserved, quite beautiful woman probably in her early forties. Long dark hair, perfect skin, exotic eyes, terrific figure, vague accent.

He watched opened-mouth. _So this is what she was doing with herself._

Belle explained. "This episode is called "Milah Pouts." She's complaining about her ex-husband. The Grinch. The Great Goblin, The Glasgow Grump."

Mary Margaret filled him in, "Apparently, she slept around on her husband but still managed to take the man for a ton of cash in the divorce settlement. But she's still not satisfied and so she continues to whine about it. We figure she's getting over $30,000 a month, but it's still not enough. She's trying to budget herself this month and the poor thing is still struggling to make ends meet."

The group watched as Milah stood in her shoe closet. It was a large, walk-in affair and held shoes on rotating racks. How many? It looked like a couple of hundred. She was holding up a pair of shoes, sharing how when they were still together, her ex had had a major temper tantrum when she had told him about them. They were, she explained, Christian Louboutin's and had cost $1500. "Try to be calm," she told her audience, going on to share that he had said this was entirely too much to pay for a pair of shoes. "Too much for shoes?! Can you imagine? And these are crocodile leather," she added, as if that explained everything. She gestured wildly. "He would just rip my heart out over this type of stuff."

Poor Milah went on to have a spa day, hair, massage, manicure, pedicure, waxing, etc. to make herself feel better after reliving the taxing memory.

Gold closed his eyes. This would have been painful, except that these women thought that Milah was a self-centered bitch. They were laughing at her, at her pretensions, her extravagance, her wasteful lifestyle. They didn't like her.

Belle had sat down next to him, her light rose, soap and sugar fragrance wafting over to him every time she moved. "I know you must think we're awful. Wasting our time with this silly show and being mean to poor Milah."

_Actually it felt kinda good to see someone else being mean to Milah. She would have had him believe it was just him. _

"We started watching this show as a joke and just have not been able to stop. The woman is so. . . bad," Mary Margaret added.

"I don't see how her husband put up with her as long as he did. He should have kicked her out long before he did," Emma asserted.

"Probably had an ironclad pre-nup that benefited her," Mary Margaret speculated.

"Or no pre-nup," Gold spoke up. "If they married when they were younger and before the money came in, there wouldn't have been one."

"Now, that makes sense," Belle said. "I bet that's what happened. Even with her cheating on him, well that gave him grounds for a divorce but not enough to pull the property and money rugs out from under her. Poor guy."

Milah was now talking about the hardships of picking a nail polish. Gels, she told the audience were long-lasting but committed one to a color unless you wanted to go through the hassle of removing the gel, which, if it was not done correctly, could actually damage your nails. She also warned them that gel polish could make your nails thin. She had found it easier to just have a daily manicure from her personal manicure artist. She flashed her nails.

Emma was rolling and mimicked Milah's voice, "It's too hard to commit to a nail color, girls. I wouldn't want my bright red nails to clash with my orange tart dress."

"Wait, wait," cautioned Ruby, "She's talking about her poor ex-husband again."

Milah spoke earnestly to her audience, "He never understood why it was so important to me to look my best. I saw it as my job, to stand by his side and if I could look good, then he would look good. And," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "he wasn't the best looking man to begin with. He never understood that what I was doing was a full-time job in itself. Never appreciated the effort I had to go to. The constant vigilance it required. Every hair, every seam, every sequin had to be exactly right. Never appreciated me at all."

Ruby, who was clearly several sheets to the wind, asked the television image, "How were you in the sack, honey? You keep a guy happy there and he'll appreciate you plenty." The other women hooted.

Yes, they were all pretty drunk.

_But Gold remembered. There had been no sack time, not after Bae was born. She wasn't about to risk another pregnancy, might lose her figure with a second child. It had been hard enough after the first. Plus she had made it clear that she didn't want him to touch her again. That she couldn't stand him. She moved out of the bedroom and had a lock put on the door to her own room. They began living separate lives. _

_She probably would not have begrudged him the occasional whore, but he didn't like, didn't want, that option (Although he would admit that there had been occasional indiscretions on his part, he'd been supremely careful and there was never any emotional connection between himself and his brief liaisons). He had married Milah because she was so incredibly beautiful and he'd wanted a wife, a partner, in and out of bed. He'd wondered if she'd ever loved him or even cared about him or if he was just a way up and out of her impoverished background. _

_It was right after Bae's birth when the money had started to come in. Milah was way too smart to walk away from all the money. And as the marriage went to hell in a hand-basket, he threw himself more and more into his work, likely driving a further wedge between. But all that said, they would probably have still have been together (at least legally married) if he hadn't caught her with Killian._

It actually made him feel better. Hearing these women recognize Milah's true character. He had thought it was just him, that just maybe Milah had been right and there was something wrong with him. That maybe he was an asshole, a selfish asshole. Completely inadequate as a man, a lover, a husband, a human being.

They passed around the wine and cheese. With considerable effort, he did not partake of the liquor (he really did try to avoid alcohol on the days he'd packed in the tramadol, although yesterday he knew he had given into temptation and had the one beer). He was trying to abide by Dr. Hopper's guidelines. Usually. Sometimes. Plus, he knew someone could be by to check on him at any time.

Once the show was over, he pleaded his health and begged to be excused. The women helped him stand. His knee was getting a bit better but walking around town all day was brutal and getting off the floor by himself was too much for him.

Belle walked him to the door and out of her apartment. She pulled the door to behind them and they stood out in the hallway together, "I'm sorry we waylaid you, but it was nice to have a man in the group for a change."

"I'm glad I didn't put a damper on the evening," he said honestly.

"I hope you had a good time. And thanks for the wine and cheese. You're delightful," and she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

He thought he might have been scalded. He knew she was rather drunk and likely wouldn't even remember the gesture. But he couldn't stop his body from reacting to her. If there hadn't been an audience on the other side of the door, he might have moved in and kissed her back.

And not on the cheek.

He managed to remind her, "Pick you up at seven tomorrow morning?"

"Oh yeah. And you, dress casual," she told him, her voice soft and low. "I like the suits, you wear them very well, but tomorrow, could you wear jeans and a t-shirt or something easier? Or I'll feel like I'm out with my dad." She leaned in and whispered directly into his ear, "and I don't have daughterly feelings for you." She drew her tongue around his ear and gently pulled his earlobe into her mouth.

He thought his knees, both the good one and the bad, were going to give away.

She stepped back from him, smiled and went back into her apartment and closed the door behind herself.

He took his time walking up the stairs. He had to cool off. Hell, he had to adjust himself.

He would need a shower. A cold one. Definitely a cold shower when he got back to his apartment.

He was glad he had taken the time. When he got upstairs he had an unpleasant, but not totally unexpected, surprise.

00—00—00—00—00

Belle closed the door behind her. _What had she done? _

Her friends were immediately on it. "What happened?" "What did he do?" there was a chorus of questions.

"Did he make a move on you? The bastard!" that was Mary Margaret.

"Did he not make a move on you? The bastard!" that was Ruby.

"It was me," began Belle.

"You made a move on him?" Emma asked.

"Sort of. I thanked him for coming and I gave him a little kiss on the cheek."

"Then did he grab you and push you against the wall, holding your hands above your head while he kissed you directly on the mouth, hard and demanding?" Ruby asked.

"No," Belle pulled back, a bit alarmed. "He didn't do anything. It was me."

"Did you run your hand down his crotch to see if he was getting a stiffy?" Emma asked.

"No," Belle pulled back even further.

"Did you take his hand and put it on your boob?" this was from Mary Margaret.

"No, but I'm beginning to think all my friends are road whores," She told them and came back into the room to sit down. She took another drink of the very nice wine Gold had left with them. "I just told him that while I liked him in a suit. . ."

Emma interrupted, "Oh yeah. He wears 'em well," she agreed.

"While I liked him in a suit," Belle continued, "I would like to see him in something more casual tomorrow. Like jeans and a t-shirt."

"Wait, wait," cautioned Ruby. "Mr. Cash in jeans." She closed her eyes a moment. "Tight jeans." Then she turned to the collective, "Boxer or briefs, girls?"

"Boxers," several of them responded.

"OK," said Ruby. "Give me a moment." She took a couple of deep breaths. "Oh god. Oh yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!" She panted a few times before she opened her eyes. "That was nice."

Belle was shaking her head. "I was going to ask some of you to help me pick out an outfit but I'm afraid you'd all put me in something slutty."

"Well yeah," agreed Emma. "He's too shy to make a move on you. That's pretty evident. You're going to have to give him an invitation and probably make the first move."

"Well," Belle admitted, "I think I kinda made a move tonight."

Ruby agreed, "Yeah, licking a guy's ear. That qualifies as a move."

"Of course, he might think that I was too forward. He might not even be interested in me," Belle said as much to herself as to her friends.

"Oh girl, he's interested in you," Emma told her. "I watched him watch you. When you came and sat down beside him, he started shifting around, like maybe he was just a little uncomfortable. And he kept not trying to look down your shirt. Belle, he's got it for you, honey."

"But I don't want him to think I'm a slut," Belle protested.

"Too late for that. You done licked his ear," Mary Margaret told her.

Belle shrugged. "Hopefully, he'll think I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing." _But she hadn't been that drunk. She had known what she was doing. She knew what she had done._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

At the top of the stairs, the woman was waiting for him. Likely she'd had to wait on him for awhile and that certainly wouldn't have improved her mood.

"Well, well, Miss Regina Mills," he said. "You tracked me down. What do you want?"

"Your head on a stick, but I'll settle for a re-negotiation of the housing allowance." _His wife's attorney. Gorgeous bitch of an attorney._

"No," he replied shortly.

"I beg your pardon," she was caught up short.

"My ex-wife has a place in the Hamptons, one on Hilton Head Island and a penthouse in Chicago. How many other places does she need to fornicate in?"

"She has nowhere to live on the West coast and that is where she is living right now."

"Well, have her talk with Killian and see what he can do for her. As for me," he paused, "my doctor ordered me to take a nice relaxing vacation. I'll have to double check but re-negotiating the divorce settlement is not on my list of fun, relaxing things to do. Go talk with my attorneys or my physician. But leave me alone."

"Your doctor ordered this? You expect me to believe that? You're just staying here spinning your wheels? Hah! This is just another one of your scams to avoid giving your wife what she deserves."

He turned on Regina raising his hand and she instinctively stepped back, "What my wife deserves is. . . " he considered several options, all involving physical violence. _Better left unsaid. _ He dropped his hand and stepped away from Regina. "Talk with my attorneys," he told Mills, then he opened his apartment door, walked by her and closed it in her face.

"You aren't getting away so easily, Gold. It took me a lot of work to find your ass and this is not over." He could hear her threatening him.

He knew she stood outside the door for a while. He went out to his balcony and lit a cigarette.

There was another knock on the door.

"God damn it," _The bitch just wouldn't give up. He was ready to call the police and have her removed._

He stomped through the apartment and jerked open the door.

Both he and the person on the other side of the door were surprised. It was an older woman in a nurse's uniform.

"Mr. Gold? Dr. Hopper wanted me to give you a quick check over. Is this a bad time?"

He stood a moment considering. _A beautiful woman-child had just let him know that she might be interested in his penis and his wife's queen bitch of an attorney had shown up on his doorstep to harass him. _"The time is just fine," he answered.

"I'm Nurse Lucas, by the way. Dr. Hopper wanted me to weigh you, check your blood pressure, do a breathalyzer test and get blood and urine samples. Let's do the breathalyzer first."

The woman was a professional. She did her job quietly and without comment. Gold actually appreciated her. "Blood pressure's up," she told him.

"You probably passed her on the staircase. My wife's attorney had just dropped by."

The nurse nodded, "Oh. I understand. I'll make a note," she told him with a understanding smile. "How much are you smoking?"

"Easily a pack a day." He offered no apologies.

"Anything to drink?"

"One beer yesterday."

His weight was down a pound. _Walking up and down hills all day and eating vegan delights all contributing._

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Bored, frustrated, irritated," he was honest.

Nurse Lucas handed him the specimen cup and, thankfully, a small discrete bag to put it in. Nothing impaired a man's dignity like having to carry a cup of pee.

He took care of this particularly distasteful business and handed it over. Nurse Lucas nodded. "I'll let Doctor Hopper know you were a model of cooperativeness."

He almost liked the nurse. Competent, professional. And gone.

He had his last cigarette on this balcony. He checked. One left in the pack.

Day Three down, thirty-nine days to go.

**A.N. Good grief, my in-box exploded! What lovely comments and kudos. So much appreciated for what I had thought would be a little vanity piece (I am writing something I'd like to read). Thanks to all those people who are following and favoriting me. **

**And especially thanks to all those who were kind enough to send me a review: Girlyemma96¸Electryone, Neferet25, Attracted2Insanity, TeamTHEFT, Anonymous Nerd Girl, fan (Guest), Ying-Fa-dono, Estrany, TcEm (twice), Hermitess, The Prince's Phoenix, cheesyteal'c, Leafena, Tinuviel Undomiel, mona-me (Guest), DruidKitty, and AngelofDarkness1605**

**Anyone has any other ideas for ugly apron designs, please pass them on. thx txm **


	4. Sort of First Date

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 4**

**The Sort of First Date**

Ooo-oOo-ooO

He didn't get around to making the call for the damn blue jeans. He had meant to. Truly he had.

But he just hadn't. Not sure why. It just hadn't happened.

And now he had to select something else to wear besides a suit. Belle had asked him to wear something other than a suit so she wouldn't feel like she was out with her father. He sure as hell didn't want her to feel like she was out with her father. He certainly didn't think of her as his daughter.

It had not been easy. He didn't have anything else.

He had to manage to research 'the whole Biltmore thing' and had a pretty good idea of what to expect here. It was a house. A really big house. A 250 room house.

Belle was taking him to a house.

He had managed to make a call about reservations at the Bistro, one of the on-ground restaurants for their lunch. And supper reservations at Rezaz, the place Belle had suggested.

He didn't want to seem too eager, so even though he had been ready at 6:30, he had waited until it was exactly seven o'clock before knocking on her door. Belle was ready for him. _Had she also been ready since 6:30? _She opened the door and greeted him with a big smile. "Hello Cash. Let me get my purse. Back, back, back, you bad boy," this last was directed at a one of her cats. _Darwin. _The black one. She must have had them shut away last night. "Mommy will be back in a little while." She closed the door behind her.

She was wearing another one of her flowing skirts, yet another tank top and more silver jewelry. _No feathers today. _She carried a wrap of some kind and had a simple purse slung over her shoulder. He thought that she looked delightful. Fresh and innocent.

_He had no idea of how much effort had gone into her outfit. Before they had left last night, she'd had her friends pick through her limited wardrobe. She wanted something special, but well, she didn't want it to look like it was anything special. They had picked an azure blue skirt that nearly matched her eyes with a white tank top. She carried a hand-crocheted light-weight shawl in case some of the places they went to were chilly from being hyper-air conditioned. She'd pulled out the lipstick and mascara._

Belle walked around him. When she came back around front she wore a neutral expression. _Poor thing, it did look like he had made an effort to look like a regular guy. . . but he was so not a regular guy._

"Well, not so bad," she told him. "Out of the suit for sure, but these," she pointed to his pants, "look suspiciously like dress pants. And this is a dress shirt. No suit jacket, no vest, no tie, no kerchief in the pocket. But not too bad." As they went down the stairs together, Belle said, "You don't own a pair of jeans, do you?"

He ruefully shook his head. "I haven't had occasion in a very long time."

"Well, you're on vacation. We need to fix that. We'll have to get by Walmart."

"I'm going to make a call," he told her. "I should have a pair very soon."

Belle gave him a sidelong glance but didn't respond to that statement. Instead she said, "Let's get breakfast and get you some coffee. Tupelo Honey?"

"Sugar maple? What are you asking me?" he was confused. He often felt confused around Belle. _It wasn't exactly a bad feeling._

She laughed and shook her head, "Tupelo Honey Café. We can get sweet potato pancakes there. Come on." She led him down to College Street and they were able to get the much touted pancakes. These were some of the best things she'd introduced him to, so far.

"We'll need a car, won't we?" he asked her as they were finishing up breakfast _The coffee was not as good as hers._

"Yeah, I share a little Saturn with Mary Margaret, Jefferson and Emma. We don't need one that often. Last person out has to fill it up and put five dollars in the kitty for routine maintenance."

"We can use my car," he told her. "I have one in the garage. Follow me."

He walked her up to the Shadow Ride. She stood and just gaped at the car. "This is one of those really expensive foreign cars, isn't it?" she finally asked, frozen to the spot where she was first standing when she realized this was his car. _His actual car. A sleek black sex-on-wheels actual car._

He shrugged, "It's a Lamborghini Roadster."

She stood a moment with her mouth open before she pulled it together and finally managed to say, "I guess this is a little nicer than the Saturn I've been sharing."

"I should hope the hell so," he told her dryly. He opened the door for her to get in and went around to get in himself, sat down and started the car. He caught her eye. "What can I say? My ex-wife spent my money on shoes. I spent it on fine cars." He considered a moment. "And she still spent more money than I did."

Belle sat pensively. Gold had already gotten the Biltmore address and spoke it into the car's guidance system and they were off. "I'm beginning to think that you might own more than one building," she said quietly.

Gold did not make any reply. Deep inside he smiled to himself as they began to motor down Highway 25 to the Estate.

They were still within the city proper when, at Belle's request, they stopped at a gas station. She wanted to excuse herself. She paused for a moment.

"Can I get you anything?" Gold had asked her.

"How about a pepsi in a can?" she asked and ducked back towards the restroom.

There was a line for the single toilet restroom. Two women in front of her. They were lined up in a corridor outside of the facility.

The woman in front of her was talking, "That is some nice car," she was saying to the woman in front of her. _Belle did not have to wonder which car they were talking about. _"I wonder what a girl would have to do to get a ride in it."

"Fancy smancy," the other woman agreed. "I've given blow jobs for rides in cars not half that nice."

"You see the dude driving it? Looks like old money," the first woman said.

"The guy with the cane? He's probably with somebody," the second woman noted.

"I didn't notice," confessed the second woman. "I was just looking at the car, not him."

_Belle debated. Should she speak up and tell these hussies that this was her man and to back off? But then of course, he wasn't her man. He was her, what was he? sort-of date_. _She wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her. Sure, she had confessed, drunkenly, some of her feelings towards him, but he had never indicated that he had something other than fatherly feelings towards her. She still wondered if he looked at her merely as a convenient companion, a tour guide who knew the area. _

"Probably here with some little gold-digger," the first woman surmised.

"Or some ole' bat that's his wife," the other one suggested.

The door opened and the first woman slid in as the previous occupant walked by them.

The second woman stood a moment looking at Belle. "Oh crap. I bet you're with the hot, rich guy, aren't you?"

Belle just smiled and nodded. "We just friends," she responded.

"Are you kidding? That's a fine looking man there, sweetie. And it looks like he's rollin' in it," the woman paused. "He's not a mo is he? He don't look like one. I saw he was limping a bit. Was he injured in the war or somethin'?"

"He's all man," Belle clarified. _She guessed he was._ "We just aren't in a relationship."

"Well, you better snap him up. If you don't, someone else will," the other woman advised.

Belle was relieved that the facility opened up and the conversation was ended. When it was finally her turn, she was in and out in record time. As she came back out into the gas station, she regarded Cash. He was waiting patiently by the door, holding her pepsi in a can and a bottled water. _Da-amn, he was a fine looking man_.

As they were about to get in the car she put her hand on his arm and gently kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she told him.

He looked at her for a moment but didn't say anything. But when he went around and got back into the driver's seat, he looked over at her.

"There were some women in the gas station wondering if you were with anyone. I thought I'd let them know that you were with me," she explained.

He reached over, putting hand behind her head and pulled her over to himself to give her another quick kiss, this one on her lips. "Anytime I can help with that, let me know," he told her.

00000oo00000

"I think I did get hit on," he told Belle once they were back on the road. "Well, maybe it was my car getting hit on."

"What happened?" Belle couldn't help but grin.

"Well, the cashier and another woman there both told me that they'd do anything, _anything_ to ride in my car."

"Take 'em up on it?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"You weren't gone long enough," he said regretfully. And there it was, just an almost, just about to be, smile from him.

They rode in quiet for just a moment, but Gold had to speak up, "I have to confess, I'm a little surprised to find you drinking a soft drink."

Belle winced. "It's my guilty pleasure. Please, please don't tell Jefferson. He would so be on my case about it. All the acids and the nasty stuff in the can and the sugar and everything. I really don't get them very often. Usually just on Sundays after our breakfast, when I go out to the Earth Fare for my groceries."

_Our breakfast? _"The man sells beer for a living," he pointed out the inconsistency.

"OK, so there's some hypocrisy there too. But, he drinks very little and eats well and exercises like nobody else. He really does take care of himself. And he just wants the best for his friends."

Gold was curious, "You've known him long?"

"About three, no four years now. It was after I had inherited the book store. He came along and bought the pub and was doing really well with it. Then his little girl, Grace, was diagnosed with leukemia. She's doing well now but I guess the strain of having a really sick child was hard on his marriage. They separated and Grace is with her mom most of the time. I hate it for Jefferson. He's the best dad, ever. But I also see mom's viewpoint that the man works afternoons and evenings in a bar. No place for a kid."

Gold asked his next question, "Was he a vegan before the child got sick?"

Belle looked closely at Gold. "No. But after she got sick, he just wanted to do everything he could to help make her well. He really believes the cancer came from toxins in the environment so everything changed for him at that point. I've known a number of vegans who've been through something like that. It gives them a sense they still have some control over what's happening to them."

Gold understood. "Even when we don't have control we try to find something in our lives we can control."

They drove a while longer, passing the hospital.

He asked the next question that he had been wondering about. "Please, who or what is GaPOz?"

Belle felt a little embarrassed, "Did I say that around you?"

He nodded, "Last night."

"It's our name for our mysterious landlord. I don't know which one of us came up with it. Some time ago we tried to find out who it was that owned the building. They put me on it, but I kept running into road blocks. The building seems to be owned by some subsidiary of some corporation of some pocket enterprise of some big business. Anywho, we just came up with the name. It stands for the _Great and Powerful Oz_."

"Interesting," he responded. "As I recall the Wizard of Oz was a bad wizard but a good man. Don't you think it more likely that your landlord is a good wizard but a . . . "

"A bad man?" Belle finished. She sat a moment looking hard at him. He didn't look at her, but could feel her eyes on him. "I'd prefer not to think that," she told him.

"You still think that's who I am?" he asked her.

She was still looking closely at him. "Not sure. When we first met, I thought of you a sweet, little, lost puppy. As I've gotten to know you these past couple of days, I don't think of you a puppy anymore."

He didn't say anything. _Had losing the puppy image been good or bad?_

"I guess you are probably more like a wizard, a great and powerful wizard. You pick up your phone and things happen. Wherever you go, twenty dollar bills appear. Plus, you drive a magic car."

"I understand. OK, we're here," he told her as they entered the grounds and went into a parking space.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Gold had bought them the premium tour. It would take the better part of the day. It took Belle a moment to realize what he had done.

"I was just going to suggest we take the regular house tour, not all the bonus features," she sounded upset.

"It's my vacation. I wanted to try something new," he responded quietly.

Belle's eye's narrowed. He had just thrown her words back at her. "But it's like a hundred and fifty dollars. . . . per head . . . plus the regular thirty-five dollar ticket. I can't let you spend a hundred and eighty-five dollars on me!" she was panicking. "OMG, this is costing you. . ." she did the math in her head, "three hundred and sixty dollars!"

Gold stopped her, putting a hand on each shoulder. "Three hundred and seventy," he corrected her automatically and then immediately regretted it.

He shook his head and moved his hands so that he was gently holding her face in them. "Belle. Listen. You were so kind, so gracious to agree to this outing, this date with me. I am so very, very grateful. I want you to have a good time. I want you to have a great time. And spending a little money, and this is a little money, this is easy for me to do. Relax. I can afford it. I promise you." He leaned in to her, "I want to do it."

Belle was hyperventilating. Her face was flushed, her lush lips were parted, her pupils had dilated. _He wondered if this was what she would look like when she came. _

_No, he needed to stop that._

"Belle, trust me on this, please. I want to do this," he didn't want her to feel awkward about the money thing. _No more than he wanted to feel awkward about the age thing._

He whispered to her, "I'm not expecting anything from you for this. Please grant me that courtesy."

Belle's breathing slowed, but she kept looking at him as if she was now most uncomfortable. He was still holding her face, his own lips mere inches from hers. "Maybe now's not the time to let you know I made reservations at the Bistro here for lunch and Rezaz for supper?" he asked hoping to lighten the mood. He tried for a smile but didn't quite get there.

Belle was able to give him a weak smile back. "I'm just not used to this type of thing. I don't have a couple of hundred dollars to drop on a house tour. I had just thought we'd do the regular tour. And that was making me feel guilty about spending the money."

"I understand. I haven't always had money myself, Belle. But I don't have anyone else special in my life right now. Please don't begrudge me this. If I have found someone I enjoy spending my money on, someone I . . ." _What, someone he liked? someone he wanted to get in their pants? someone he wanted to nail in the back seat of his car and have her raking her nails down his back and screaming out his name, his real name? ". . . _I enjoy being with, let me enjoy it," he managed to finished lamely.

"Somehow you've made me feel a little petty," she confessed. "I mean you're a grown man and if you want to spend your money, which apparently you have plenty of, on a house tour, then so be it."

There was an awkward moment. He could have chosen to move in and kiss her lips. He considered it. She considered coming up on her toes just a bit and kissing his lips. They stood a moment looking deep into each other's eyes. Then, on some hidden signal, they both pulled away and separated.

_Right, he was so spending his money on a house tour._

00000oo00000oo00000oo00000

He walked Belle up the stairs and to her door. They were both very quiet. Belle unlocked her door and turned back to him.

She made eye contact, then dropped her eyes. "Mr. Cash," she began.

"Bobby," he told her.

She raised her eyes to his.

"My first name. Call me Bobby," he told her.

She smiled and dropped her eyes again, "Bobby, I had a wonderful time. Even though you spent way too much money on me." She raised her eyes back to his. They were standing as closely as they could without touching each other, "If we go out again, I want you to. . ." she began.

"Shut up," he told her and, unable to resist her siren call, he moved in, putting his hands on her waist, pulling her to him and, without giving her a chance to protest or resist, he kissed her. On the lips. Open-mouthed.

Slowly.

Thoroughly.

She kissed him back, leaning back, trusting the strength of his arms as they reached up around her. She could feel his tongue inside her lips, his teeth against her lips. He wasn't hurting her, but he was clearly controlling the kiss. _What would it be like to have him making love to her? Would he be this same combination of force and gentleness? _She felt her knees giving away and knew that her own arms were reaching up to hold onto his shoulders.

With great effort, he pulled back. She had closed her eyes and given in to him, completely, surrendering to him.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Bobby?"

"Belle. We're doing this date thing again, you understand," he told her using the voice he used to convince companies to trust his advice on multi-million dollar deals, to get banks to lend him staggering amounts, to gain investors in risky ventures.

"OK," she managed to say back to him, still holding on to him.

He considered pressing his advantage _he could get her into his bed with just a little effort_, but damn, this was a lady, and_ it took_ _considerable effort,_ he decided to play the gentleman and give her some space and some time.

He kissed her one more time, this time more kindly, and gently ushered her back into her apartment. He closed the door behind her and, after a couple of deep breaths, wondering why he had taken the high road, he went upstairs to his own apartment.

Ooooooooooo0000oooooooooooO

Belle stood on the other side of her door. _What had just happened? _

He had kissed her, really, really kissed her.

A great kiss.

And then he had just shoved her inside her door.

_Had he been afraid of what could have happened next, what could have been happening right now if he hadn't shoved her in the door? If he had pressed it, she would have said, yes, yes, yes._

Belle went into her bathroom to wash her face.

It had been a wonderful day, once she got through the money thing. Well, truth be told, she wasn't totally through the money thing. _Who has that kind of money? The man must have dropped five hundred on her today. And look at the car he was driving. Probably worth six figures. _

_She was so out of her league. _

She didn't remember all that much of what they had done except that he had quietly kept her by his side, holding her hand, brushing up against her from time to time. She felt as if his gaze never left her. He had felt so warm and comforting. She'd had to stop herself from leaning into him, from stroking his arms and touching him.

She looked at her reflection and spoke sternly to herself. "You've only known the man four days and this was just a first sort-of date."

_Not when it ended with a kiss like that. It was a real date, girl._

"Just because he makes your lady parts go all moist and soft and warm, doesn't mean it's OK to hop in bed with him. You were raised to be a lady," she admonished herself. _Of course, you might have to start wearing Depends around him if he keeps looking at you like he did tonight, honey. I thought you were going to wet yourself when he started kissing you. _

_Well, she had wet herself._ And even though he wasn't there to know this and see her, she blushed.

Ooo000oo000oo000ooO

When Gold returned to his own apartment, he realized that he had difficulties recalling any specifics of his day. Big house, big grounds, delicious food, wonderful, beautiful company. . . _beautiful company._

What he did remember was that Belle had held his hand as they walked around. A couple of times she would lean into him, her soft curves settling into his angles. Her light perfume was still in his head. _He guessed it was her perfume; he was truly in trouble if the woman just smelled like roses, soap and sugar. He remembered wondering what would she taste like. _He had had to make an effort not to put his hand on her hip, or around her waist, or around her shoulders. He was well aware that other men were looking at her. . . and him. She seemed oblivious, focused only on him. . . looking at him, listening to him, smiling at him.

He kept trying to get her to talk about herself _he'd remembered that from many years ago before he got married. Get the girl to talk about herself. Act like you're interested. Hell, be interested._

He certainly remembered the goodnight kiss. He could not have stopped himself from kissing her for half his fortune. _He remembered her melting into him, giving back to him, responding to him. She tasted delicious. _

It had been so long since there had been a woman like this in his life. One who gave as well as she took. One who clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was guessing that she would have been ready for him if he had pressed the issue; she had turned so soft in his arms.

He sat on his balcony, smoking. _Where was this going? Where could it go? He knew he shouldn't get into a relationship right after a divorce. What did they call that? A re-bound relationship. He knew he was vulnerable._

_But that didn't stop his growing feelings from happening. _

_Oh yeah, well what if she was a gold-digger? A smart, unscrupulous woman who had figured out who he was, what his net worth was and had set out to lure him into a second marriage? A clever girl would start out telling him not to spend his money on her, that she would just want to have his company._

_He didn't know he could stand it if he found out that Belle was just trying to get her hands into his money. _

_But if his Belle was the sweet girl he thought she was, and he was a damn good judge of people (not withstanding Milah, a youthful folly), well then, he could see what would happen if the tabloids got a hold of this story. That kind of thing could hurt sweet, innocent Belle. Billionaire, fifty-something, ex-husband of Marvelous Milah, having a little fling with twenty-something bookstore owner, Beautiful Belle. What would Milah do if she caught wind of it? She'd never wanted him, but didn't want anyone else to have him either. And if Regina could find him, then Milah sure as hell could._

_Maybe he needed to pull up stakes and go to another town. Leave the classy, beautiful Miss Belle behind. _

_But he so didn't want to. _

_He was so out of his league._

He checked the packet of cigarettes. One left over.

He remembered that he needed a pair of blue jeans. Probably a couple of pairs.

And 't-shirts.'

And oh yeah. He needed to get a different car, too. Something that would fit in better.

He made a phone call.

What color? Something perky. Not black.

_Day Four Down, thirty-eight days to go. _

**A. N. Hope you enjoyed their sort of first date. Amazing people you are to have the time to review my story. Thank you so much: ****DruidKitty, Girlyemma96, ****Grace5231973, Lilly927, Tinuviel Undomiel, Rayvah, The Prince's Phoenix, AngelofDarkness1605, tigger64, Leafena, , Claire (Guest), Thenopetrain (Guest), Iseewithperfectclarity, Hermitess (Guest), TcEm, TeamTHEFT, truelove333, Attracted2Insanity, cheesyteal'c, big fan (Guest), Neferet25, and ****Littletartine****. **

**Several of you shared apron ideas, we should see some of those coming up. **

**And special thanks to Anonymous Nerd Girl who graciously shared a terrific idea that I plan to expand on and incorporate into an upcoming chapter. **

**On a purely personal note, I'm about to get back into teaching duties (second job in the evening) which will cut into my writing time so my updates might slow just a bit – I've been getting out about two a week but I will likely have to drop to one). txm**


	5. Ruthless

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Five**

**Ruthless**

Ooooo-000-ooooO

It was Friday morning. He was wondering what his reception with Belle would be. He had told he didn't expect anything in return but then he'd forced his attentions upon her.

Although it had been just a kiss.

No, it hadn't been 'just a kiss.'

There were no 'just kisses' with Belle.

_Now that she'd had a chance to level off would she tell him to get lost? That she thought he was a jerk? That she never wanted to see him again?_

He heard Belle moving around on the roof garden first thing that morning. She had come up the fire escape to water the vegetable plants (Emma or Mary Margaret must have fielded the job yesterday). He had just gotten out of the shower and was concerned that he might miss her.

He wanted to, he needed to, talk with her first thing before she got down to the store.

So he hurried out and, wrapped only in a towel around his waist, went out to the roof garden. She had her back to him and seemed lost in her own world watering the vegetables. He spoke to her, calling her name, startling her and she turned, still holding the hose and . . .

She thoroughly drenched him.

Her hand went to her mouth. He now was clad only in a sopping wet towel which was clinging to his angles. It made for some interesting bulges when he moved. Or even when he just stood there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she immediately apologized. "You startled me." She couldn't stop herself from glancing down.

She closed her eyes.

She peeked.

"I figured," he told her, wiping water from his hair. "I'm sorry, too. I had wanted to get you before you left and I had just gotten out of the shower. Sorry."

He walked back into the apartment telling her, "Please, please wait a moment. I'll get dressed."

Belle waited, feeling horribly embarrassed. _Why did she turn into such a klutz around the man? __She couldn't stop herself from eyeing the man's . . . uh. . . package that had been outlined by the damp towel. Oh lord, she was slut. If she'd been a real lady she wouldn't have looked. But she couldn't stop herself. He must have seen her peeking. What would he think of her?_

He came back in, soon enough, dressed much the way he had dressed yesterday, in dress pants and a dress shirt. He had dressed quickly and he had left the top couple of buttons on the shirt unfastened. It gaped open revealing a lovely expanse of masculine chest. His hair was still damp. There were still drops falling onto his shirt and a few down his neck. _She had to stop herself from going over and licking off the drops. _

"Belle," he began. Her eyes flew to his. _He couldn't help but notice her pupils had dilated, easily discernible in the beautiful blue of her eyes. Had she been aroused by the sight of him clad only in a towel, a wet towel to be sure? Or was she offended and scandalized?_

He needed to go more slowly.

"Belle, I don't want you going up and down the fire escape. It's not safe."

"But if I don't water the plants twice a day, they will die," she protested.

He shook his head, "I'm giving you a key. I want you to come through the apartment."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "A key to your apartment?"

"So you can water the plants," he explained, handing her a key.

"Oh," she said again. "OK," she responded and took the key.

She stood a moment, not sure what to do at the moment. _She should leave._

"Belle," he called her again.

"Huh?" she still wasn't sure what to do. She was still thinking about the towel bulges.

"This morning, in your store. I'd like to kiss you good morning, if that's all right." He approached her, noticing her eyes widening. _Was she afraid of him?_

"Can I kiss you now?" he asked her._ What had made him ask that? He couldn't stop himself._

"Oh yes," she told him and immediately she closed the distance between them. He opened his arms to her and she nearly flung herself into them. This kiss was sweet _not the episode of hardened mastery from the previous night. _This time was gentle. Her lips and tongue cautiously and then eagerly played with his. He let her take the lead.

Her lips left his and she was kissing him down his neck, even working her way down to his chest _finally licking those water drops off his skin_. _He tasted really, really good. _

Gold was enjoying himself, feeling her delicate lips and her tantalizing tongue trace a path on his skin. He probably needed to stop her but it was so very, very nice. The relationship was too new for him to encourage her to do any more than what she was doing _but he would have liked her to keep moving on down his body with her little kisses and her talented little tongue. _With regret, he stopped her and tilted her face up to his.

"I'm very flattered ma'am. But I think we should stop and finish getting ready for our day."

She seemed kinda dazed. "I guess so," she murmured.

"And please, can I kiss you in your bookstore?" he repeated his earlier question. "I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends, your clients or anyone. But I'm not ashamed of my feelings either. I would like to greet you with some measure of. . . appreciation."

Belle nodded dumbly in agreement. _He was going to be kissing her some more. Oh goody!_

"Good, now let's both focus. You, especially, have a busy day ahead. You have to go fix me coffee." He stroked her hair and escorted her out. As he watched her head down the stairs he thought to himself _I could have had her then and there. If I had pushed it, she would have agreed. _He shook his head. _When had he gotten so noble?_

_It struck him. _

_He wasn't after a quick fuck with Belle. He wanted something a little more . . . well, a lot more. He really liked this woman, enjoyed her company, her conversation, not to mention he thought she was breath-takingly gorgeous. He didn't just want to score, have a quickie upon the conference table in the board room or do it up against the wall in a purposely stalled elevator. He wanted her in a bedroom, with her wearing a white nightgown he could take off with his teeth. He wanted her lying on her back with her hair spread out and a couple of hours to feast on her delicate sensitivities and plenty of time to satisfy them both. _

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Belle was still trying to get her head back on. Another great kiss and she had just melted and started kissing him down his neck and his chest, like a wanton trollop. Oh lord, she had licked him again. If he had so much as snapped his fingers she would have stripped off and let him have his way with her. _

_Why couldn't she think clearly around the man?_

_She had never had this problem around other men. _

_Well, though, maybe she hadn't been around other men. She'd been around a lot of large boys. But this was a real man, someone who was used to managing things, taking charge, making decisions and following through. A powerful, talented, intelligent man._

_So then, what did he see in her? _

_Was she just so much fluff, light entertainment, a vacation distraction?_

She had pulled herself together by the time she got down to her store. She got things opened up like she usually did. She got things ready to make his coffee like she usually did.

He was running later than usual.

By the time he sauntered downstairs, she was waiting for him. She finished preparing his extreme long shot. There was a bit of an audience and she wondered if he had delayed coming down, just so it would be more likely that more people would be around. He pulled her to him and gave her a quick kiss on the lips right there in front of the pastry case. Ruby was there (her apron today had giant toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste in vivid colors on it). With some effort, Gold kept the kiss quick and reasonably chaste. He caught Ruby's eye and she gave him a small smile.

_Good to know her friends approved of him, well at least Barista Ruby did._

The black cat Darwin was watching him. The cat just stared, then walked over to Gold's usual seat and sat down next to it. Gold went over, sat himself down and scratched the cat's head. After a moment the cat, having accepted his tribute, ambled on.

Belle brought him his coffee and a blueberry scone. She made a lunch recommendation (Bouchon's).

He left his usual twenty and, as he had on the other days, he continued to wander around the town. His walking tour was expanding every day. _Maybe he was getting stronger, maybe getting in better shape. _

He went by a yoga studio on this particular morning's jaunt and whimsically he went in. There was a class going on and, not wanting to interfere, he stood and watched for awhile. _He could do this. This looked like something that he could do, even with a bum knee. _

He waited until the class was over, had a long chat with the teacher and signed up for classes at 10:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. He got a materials list (clothing, yoga pad) and went on out. He planned to be back Monday.

By afternoon, he had opted to revisit the bookstore and pulled several books off the shelves, a bestseller on economic theory and an older classic, _Alice in Wonderland,_ bought them and, at Belle's suggestion, sat in a quiet corner and began reading the Lewis book. He realized abruptly that he had been sitting there for most of the afternoon.

When he got back to his apartment, there was a package waiting for him. Several pairs of blue jeans. Armani blue jeans, of course. He had told his concierge that his clothes seemed to be getting loose so they had sent different sizes. There was a handwritten note from Smee, his personal shopper, that jeans should fit snugly. He tried them on and elected to keep three pair. He also set aside the black t-shirts that had been included. He'd leave the other pants outside of his door and they would be picked up and returned. There was also a smaller box containing a car key with a manual.

At seven, Jeff brought him the Burrito Supremo with TVP, black beans, yellow rice, grilled onions, cheezy sauce, soy cream, fresh salsa, lettuce and guacamole served with homemade blue chips and salsa. He ate a quiet supper looking over the manual.

Belle knocked on the door (rather than using her key). She carried a small bucket with her.

He looked at the bucket and she answered the unspoken question, "vegetable scraps, for the composter in the garden."

He didn't know he had a composter in the garden. He considered kissing her again but had to admit the bucket of compost was slightly off-putting. Not that it smelled or anything. It was just the idea. He watched her water the plants, trip over the hose, spray down the glass door out to the roof garden, her usual routine of grace and clumsiness. He had begun to suspect that his scrutiny made her nervous but she hadn't said anything, so he wasn't about to forego the pleasure of watching her. She was adorable.

He also wasn't about to let her leave without confirming something, reaching for her hand as she walked by.

"Next Thursday. I want to see you again," he told her

Her eyes widened and she nodded, telling him, "I guess I could take you up the Blue Ridge and we could hit Mt. Mitchell."

"Perfect," he answered, _not knowing what was up the Blue Ridge and why they would want to hit Mt. Mitchell. He didn't care. It was time with her._

"But. . ." she started.

He stopped, holding her in his gaze. _Was she going to make a deal with him, lay out some ground rules, put up some stipulations? This should be interesting._

"I'd like you to come to Girl's Night In, again. It was nice having you there. Everybody said so."

He hesitated. It would mean watching Milah prance around. It would mean watching Belle and her friends be gossipy and generally nasty towards Milah.

He could handle that.

He would enjoy that.

"Why don't you bring your friends here?" he asked her. "I have more comfortable seating and a large television screen?" _He didn't want to have to get down on the floor again. _

Belle considered. _Did he have a clue what she and her friends actually were? _"Sure."

They stood holding each other's hand, looking into each other's eyes for a moment.

Belle finally asked, "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Uh hum," he told her slowly moving closer to her.

"Good," she smiled back at him and stood up on her tiptoes.

This time he took charge _as he had the previous night_, recognizing it was his nature to be in charge, to take command, to be in control. He knew he ran the risk of frightening her, but he was feeling the need to exert. . .a little dominance. He knew it was chauvinistic of him, but he was the man, after all. And she was definitely the woman, all delightful, delicate and deliciously female.

He kissed her, bending her back, moving his hands around her waist, letting his hands slip up her back. His lips trailed down her neck. Belle's eyes were closed and she relaxed against his arms. He heard her give a small whimper and felt her hands as they clasped reflexively against his shirt. One of his hands went behind her head and he held her in place while he continued his efforts to reduce her to a puddle of desire and compliance. When he relaxed the arm he held against her back, she dropped with it and he knew she had given in to him and she would yield all to him if he pushed it.

"Bobby," she whispered, still holding onto his shirt.

"Not yet, princess. I know it's still too soon for you," he whispered back and helped her stand upright. He gently escorted her to the door and led her down the stairs back to her own apartment. He kissed her on the forehead and, very gently, shoved her across the threshold.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

That had been really nice. He was relaxing on the roof top. Just sitting. Looking over the city lights in the fading light of the evening. He recognized that it was a matter of time before she would be pleading with him to stay over. Yeah, it was just a matter of time.

Then he got the skype call from Bae.

"Hey dad, you made another three million," was the first thing Bae told him. "Not even being in the office and doing anything. You're amazing. Dark Castle is still trying for the deal with Cricket but they won't commit. We're bidding against Blue and against Hart. Cricket likes us best, I think."

"Blue and Hart are both bitches. They just want to buy the technology and stifle it. They will offer these boys a one time deal. We've got the testosterone factor in our favor. And we've got vision and can offer them a lifetime of income and innovation. We pull this off. . ."

Bae finished, "Yeah, well whoever gets them and puts funding behind them will end up dominating the technology world. The possibilities are unimaginable."

"We'll see. I've heard this type of stuff before," Gold told his son. "Let's hope they fulfill their promise."

"How are you liking their prototype phone?" Bae asked him.

Gold took out his phone. It was a sleek metallic design. "So far, so good. I haven't worked with it as much as I should. But I've not had to charge it yet."

"Better not have to charge it with that technology. Well, try out the blood pressure feature. That should be useful," Bae directed him.

Gold nodded, "Will do. Anything else happening?"

"Just routine, day to day stuff. No crisis." There was a pause, "How about you dad? How's it going?"

"Boring. Really boring. I'm eating cardboard and drywall for at least one meal a day. There's a vegan pub in my building that is supplying me food."

"Never pegged you as a vegan, dad. What's up with that?" Bae was laughing at him.

Gold was enjoying himself. "I don't know. I just kinda got swept away with it all." He hesitated. "And there's this young woman. . . "

"Dad?" Bae was not unhappy to hear this. "Tell me about her,"

"She's way too young for me. Bae. She's probably younger than you."

"A younger woman. Mom better not find out. She'll have a stroke."

Gold considered. Milah having a stroke. It was a delicious image. He could see Bae smiling and shaking his head.

"Tell me more about her, dad."

"She's beautiful, smart, very, very nice. Altogether too good for me."

"Is it serious?"

"I don't think so. I sometimes think she feels sorry for me although sometimes she definitely shows some interest. And," and he really hesitated. "I'm really enjoying her company. If I thought she might be interested, really interested in me, then, yeah, maybe, it could become serious," he admitted. _He also knew he was ruthlessly arousing her burgeoning sexual desires for his own dark purposes, possession, consumption. _

"Dad, you read people very well. I suspect Mom is the only one you ever mis-judged. If you think this girl is right for you, then I have faith in your judgment. Have fun, Dad. It's what you need to be doing. You have my blessing."

They chatted about odds and ends. It was always good to hear his son's voice.

"I love you, son," he said as he ended the call.

"Love you too, dad," he heard Bae say as the call closed.

He went out and smoked his last cigarette for the day. There were two left over in the pack tonight. He sat quietly and watched the lights of the city until he got sleepy and went on to bed.

Five days down, thirty-seven to go.

**A.N. Thanks to all those who have followed or favorite the story and special thanks to my latest series of reviewers; AngelofDarkness1605, TcEm, The Prince's Phoenix, Leafena, The Auburn Girl, Tinuviel Undomiel, anon (Guest), DruidKitty, Anonymous Nerd Girl, SakuraBlossom58, Iseewithperfectclarity, Liz (Guest), Attracted2Insanity, TeamTHEFT, KingArtAud (Guest), Hermitess, NightowlsNest, juju0268, (anonymous) Guest, and thedoctorsgirl42 (whew, I hope I got everybody). Thank you all so much. **

_NEXT: Emma visits Gold _

_Emma and Gold go to Walmart_


	6. Walmart

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Six**

**Walmart**

000000000-o-000000000

On Saturday he showered and waited for Belle. He heard her tap on the door, and after a few moments, he heard her use the key. He let her go on out to the roof garden to take care of the plants holding himself back. He had put on his new jeans and one of the black t-shirts. He was waiting for her when she came back inside.

Belle stood stunned. "Wow," she said.

He stood quietly, not a hundred percent sure that it was the jeans and t-shirt that had caught her attention.

She came over to him and gently kissed him on the cheek. "You are looking fine. I'm going to have to get a stick to beat off my competition."

"You have no competition," he told her seriously.

"Well, if the other women in Asheville see you like this, I soon will have. You better watch out."

He watched her walk away from him. Going down to her store.

He gave it awhile and taking a deep breath, a bit nervous about how his other new acquaintances would greet him in his new attire, he went on down the stairs and on into the bookstore. He greeted Belle was a chaste kiss and got his coffee.

Ruby was wearing one of those hideous (even for her) aprons that looked like a cartoon woman wearing a yellow bikini with little red dots. When she saw him, she gapped and walked herself into the counter. "Ouch," she complained, then she grinned at Gold and gave him a "thumbs-up."

When Emma came by, she blew him a kiss and spoke, "My, my, I thought you filled out a suit pretty well, but this is as good, maybe even better. You start growing a beard and you'll look like a native."

He considered. _A beard. _He glanced at Belle. He might want to clear that with her.

He got his lunch recommendation, the Laughing Seed, got a whistle from Mary Margaret who had stopped by for a coffee. After he'd laid his usual twenty on the table and before he left out for his usual morning walk, Belle pulled him aside.

"I'm so sorry, my friends are a bunch of floozies. I hope they didn't embarrass you," she told him in a low voice. She then smiled at him, "But you do look amazing. Very relaxed."

He nearly smiled and thanked her. He felt genuinely flattered. _These women weren't interested in his money; they didn't know he had money. Their comments were from their hearts. . . or perhaps their vaginas. But real, nonetheless. _

He managed his usual morning walk, noting his knee was doing some better, certainly down from the fiery pain he usually felt in it. He followed up with the lunch recommendation for The Laughing Seed, and then, after swinging by the bookstore, walk up the stairs to his apartment with another book from Belle's, this time a book on marketing theory. _When were they going to get that damn elevator fixed? _As he walked up to the door of his apartment, he noticed the door was open.

He used the tip of his cane to open the door all the way, carefully and slowly looking around. Once inside, he stopped at one of the credenzas, leaned down, opened it up and removed his Glock.

'You really won't need that," he heard a voice and swung on the figure. Once he saw who is was, he hesitated.

"Besides, I'd already found it and took out all the bullets."

He lowered the pistol, "Miss Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I assume you borrowed Miss Belle's key to come early to water the plants?" _He really didn't think this was what had happened. _

"Nah, and you know better, I think," Emma told him. She was lounging in his Eckornes.  
"This is a nice chair," she added.

Gold stood a moment, opened his Glock and ascertained there were still bullets in it. He looked back at Emma.

"Well, I can see why you're a billionaire. You know how many guys buy that 'I already took your bullets' story? You're the first guy who actually checked," she was smiling at him.

"Why are you here?" he went straight to the point.

"As you may have realized, I'm not just the pastry girl," she told him. "I work for the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Bureau as a deep cover agent." She leaned back and looked hard at him. "But somehow I think you might actually already know that."

"Maybe," he responded noncommittally.

She leaned back in his chair, putting her feet up, "I got a call this morning from my boss's boss's boss's boss. I'm talking somebody who works in D.C. They just wanted me to know that a very important man had moved into my building and I was told to break cover to let him know who I was. And I was to offer him any support services that I could. Now I was curious enough to ask why ATF could possibly be interested in anyone in my building and I was told that a couple of other agencies were anxious about you being down here, on your own, without bodyguards and security and all. Apparently you're a very valuable man."

"So that's why you're here?"

"Well," she sighed. "There's more. After I hung up from talking with my agency's big kahuna, I get another call. This one coming in from the Pentagon and now I'm talking with some general who's all hot and bothered that some one of your stature and importance is alone down here in the big city of Asheville, North Carolina. Apparently there are a number of big-ass military deals you have on-going and they were concerned that something might happen to you that could jeopardize them. He wanted me to keep an eye on you, a close eye."

"Uh huh," Gold motioned for her to get out of his chair and then sat down in it himself.

"So that's why you're here?" he asked again.

"Well," she threw her hands up in defeat. "There's more. After I hung up from talking with the nervous general, I got another call. A scary one," she looked him in the eye. "Home-mother-land-fucking-security. They wanted me to know that a very important man was staying in my building and they wanted a duly deputized officer of the law to be accessible to him at all times. They emphasized how very, very important and very, very valuable and how totally irreplaceable you are. Something about some satellite technology and communications research deals you were doing for them."

"And what did you tell all these people?" he was curious.

"That you were here on vacation, minding your own business, not bothering anybody, nobody bothering you. And, of course, I would make contact and see what I needed to do."

"That's nice," he answered her.

"Damn, you're Robert Spinner, known to most of the world as Mr. Gold, the man who turned straw houses into gold houses. You own Rummee, Dark Castle, SIG, god knows how many other companies that I've heard of. . . and that I haven't heard of. You're worth billions. One of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world. Shit," Emma shook her head, "And here I was blowing kisses at you, letting you know how fine you looked in your blue jeans. Damn. Are you laughing at all of us?" she asked him.

"Not at all. You were right to tell them I was on vacation. That's the truth. I needed a break. I'm doing, I think, very well." He regarded her a long moment. "Are you going to tell your friends?"

"Hell no. For one thing, I'm sworn to secrecy. For another, it's your business, not mine. Unless you hurt any of my friends," she warned him. ""You're not planning on hurting any of my friends are you?"

"No plans to," he assured her.

"OK, well, how would you prefer I handle this? I can throw everything to the wind and become your personal bodyguard, but somehow I don't think you want that," she told him.

"Hell no, no offense to you," he told her. "I'm doing fine. I don't need anyone to look after me."

"That's what I thought, but you might, maybe, at some point need some help?"

"Actually now, I need someone to take me to a store called Walmart," he told her. "Belle is working and I need to get there before Monday morning."

She smiled at him, "I'm your girl. Walmart, huh. Why Walmart?"

"I need to get some clothes for my yoga class and a mat. The instructor said I needn't put too much money into it, that I should probably be able to pick up what I needed at Walmart. Emma, I could go on my own, but I'm not used to . . . shopping and Belle is busy in her store."

"Come on then. I'm off Saturdays," she motioned to the front door of his apartment and, as they went down the stairs, she suggested, "We probably should exchange phone numbers just in case anything does actually happen."

He nodded. "OK, but nothing's going to happen here beyond my ex-wife's attorney showing up."

Emma stopped in her tracks, "Oh my god, you're Milah's ex-husband. I just now put it together. You're the poor bastard she took for a ride."

"One and the same. Someday, I'll tell you my side of things,"

"Hell, it's a ways out to Walmart. We got time now."

Gold realized they were walking to the garage. "We can take my car," he told her.

"Nah!" she told him. "I'm driving. We take the Saturn. Belle told me that you drive a Lamborghini and there's no way in hell you can take that to a Walmart parking lot."

"No, I have another car that should fit in."

"But then I'll have to tell you where to turn and all," she complained.

"I have a GPS. We just put in the address," he told her.

"But the GPS don't know the best route for this time of day. Those things are 'by the map' only. I'm driving," she said finally.

"No, I'm the man. I get to drive."

"You're the man?! You get to drive?! What kinda shit is that? I know the way and if you want me to come with you, I get to drive," she faced him down. _What was she, five foot three inches of vinegar and spitfire?_

He debated. He could let her drive or could go by himself. Walmart shopping was such unknown country; he knew he would need a guide. Even a stubborn, willful, obstinate guide would do.

He capitulated, "All right. You can drive . . . this time. We go anywhere else. I get to drive."

"I'm not agreeing to that," she told him. They found the little unpretentious burgundy Saturn. It had been reasonably well kept up but was at least ten years old. It started up and Emma took him out the garage and down some back streets.

They had driven only a short distance when Emma asked him, "What is your side of the divorce?"

Gold considered and then began, "My marriage had fallen apart a long time ago. I'd wanted out for a long time, but Milah wanted the money and figured a divorce would take much of that away. We'd still be married except I finally caught her in the sack with a smooth talking operator, Captain Killian Jones. Very pretty young man. I finally had grounds. But it wasn't easy."

"What happened?"

"We argued over every knife, fork and spoon, every pillowcase, every salt and pepper shaker that we owned. I was ready for her to take all her clothes, all her shoes, please take the god damned shoes, what was I going to do with them? I told her to pick out a couple of the houses we owned and they could be hers and I'd still pay the yearly taxes on the places. I offered her a generous allowance. I couldn't figure out what else she wanted."

"What else did she want?" Emma asked.

"I guess she wanted attention. I probably had shut her out of my life for a couple of years and she saw this was a good chance to get back at me. Some of the news media started picking up on the in-fighting and apparently it make good copy. Milah was more than happy to pose and posture and tell her side of things. I was not, so I was vilified and pilloried in the press. I have a bit of history of being a hardass so I figured I couldn't win this. If I came out against her, I'd just look like a bully. If I sat back and let her rant, maybe it would just get over."

"How'd that work out for ya?" Emma asked him.

"So so. One of the last things I did was to set her up with her little show. I was hoping it would give her a venue and something to do."

"You are funding her bitching about you!?" Emma shook her head.

"Otherwise, she'd be on my doorstep or be filing other lawsuits. The show is pretty innocuous."

Emma nodded, "I guess, but it gripes my shorts that you are paying for her to put you down every week."

Gold digested this observation and shrugged. He had been watching Emma drive. She was quick and decisive, watching her mirrors, using her signals but not loitering. She was moving them quickly along back routes and, he assumed, getting them to their destination by the fastest means possible.

"Why did you become an ATF agent?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "Never told you I'd tell you my story, Bob."

He accepted this, "Fair enough. Well then, tell me about Walmart."

It probably wasn't good that Emma laughed at him.

She began, "It will probably seem like another world to you, filled with alien people and alien behavior. You will see human beings in shapes you never realized they could come in, dressed in manners that you never imagined. There will not only be sights, but smells, almost all of them unpleasant, body odor, whiskey, rank cigarettes, stale perfumes. And the noise, kids screaming, parents cussing, arguments, the frequent ass-whippings, the occasional knock-down drag-out."

"And why are we going there?" he asked her.

"You wanted to get a yoga mat and some yoga pants," she reminded him.

"Couldn't I get these things at a less irksome place?"

"Probably, but then you would miss the experience."

They pulled in, trolled the parking lot and Emma found a place up front and pulled in.

"This is a big place," Gold observed.

"You have no idea," Emma warned him.

As they passed a family of eight, with children dressed in flip-flops, with dirty faces, at least two of them crying, Emma heard him say to himself, "Remember that they're more afraid of you, than you are of them."

Emma reached out and stopped him, "Now why would you think that?" she asked him. "Alongside those few of us who are refined and shop here for the bang we get for the buck, the rest are ignorant rednecks, gangbangers, and loner survivalists who are probably armed and off their medication. You should be afraid, very afraid."

"Oh lass, I grew up on the back streets of Glasgow. I ran with a gang for a while, drug running. I managed to get out, so I've a little experience taking care of myself," he assured her.

"Was that before or after your knee got taken out?" she asked.

"I got out before the knee," he said quietly.

"OK. This is one of the nicer Walmarts and this parking lot is pretty safe, but we'll be walking pretty fast before we get into the little room before we get into the store itself," she told him. "The little room and wall-o-sales are designed to slow us up."

Gold recognized the marketing theory. As prepared as he had tried to be, he came to an abrupt stop upon entering the store itself.

The place was huge, with merchandise going up the walls. It was bright, it was loud, it was dirty.

"Where are the yoga pants? Where do we start?" he asked Emma.

"Not in the yoga pants section, for sure. Let's try the sleep pants," she directed him. She led him into the bowels of the store.

Emma kept losing him. She'd backtrack and find him engrossed in some piece of crap or another. "Gee, take this already," she told him and handed him her phone. "Play Walmart bingo and keep up with me," she ordered him. "I don't want you getting lost in the store."

"Walmart bingo?" he asked her.

"Every time you spot one of the things on the card face, you can check it off. Get a row of checks and you win," she explained. She grabbed his arm and led him along as he studied the face of her phone and the list of items that were there.

"Emma, Emma," he called to her. "What's a tramp stamp?"

"Oh, honest to god!? That's a tattoo across the lower back. They also call them ass antlers."

"Really?! People get that?"

"Some women do," she explained.

They were at their first destination. Emma began to rifle through the racks of colorful sleepwear. She rejected those with sports logos, cartoon figures, loud plaids. "Here," she said finally pulling out a pair of royal blue cotton drawstrings. "Let's see if I can find something else." She continued looking.

"What are back boobs?" he asked her still looking at the face of her phone.

"Here," she handed him some black cotton pants and a somber grey-blue plaid pair with an elastic waist. She hesitated, not sure how to explain the phenomenon. "They look just like front boobs without the nipples."

"Really?!" he was amazed. He continued looking over the items and she could see that periodically he would note something and check it off.

"Child standing in a grocery cart. . . . woman with four children under four. . . . Emma, Emma, Emma is that the rebel flag?"

She glanced over at the indicated party. "Yep. Now come on, we need to pick you up a couple more plain t-shirts that you can wear." She stopped in the underwear section and picked up a three packet of light blue, medium blue and navy blue pocket tees.

Emma was moving towards the sporting goods section, feeling that would be the best bet for a yoga mat. She turned. _Damn, _she'd lost him again. _He was like a hyperactive six year old! _

After going up and down a half dozen aisles, she found him. He had sidetracked into the electronics department and was examining the video game systems. When she caught up with him, he explained, "These look like fun. You can buy them, set them up and play games in your own home."

"Oh good grief, didn't your kid have a video game growing up?"

"I think so. It involved a little guy jumping and dodging fireballs. I don't see that one here."

Emma shook her head, "No I think they probably have sold out of the 8-bit Nintendo systems. They went right after the Atari systems," she remarked. "You see something you want?"

"I don't know which one of these is best."

"What kinda games you like to play?"

"I don't know. Does that make a difference which one I get?"

"Are you thinking of getting one?" Emma wasn't sure if she thought this was a good idea or not.

"Why not? They look like fun."

"Can be. If you're looking at a console, you'll want the Wii or the Xbox 360 or the Playstation 3. They have different games for each of them."

"Can I get all three?"

"No, you'll go on a special list," she told him.

"Really?"

"Oh hell no. But most people settle on one."

He looked her dead in the eye. "I'm not most people. Get me a cart. I'm going to load them up."

"Don't wander off," she told him and made her way back to the front of the store as fast as she could. Lord only knew what mischief he could get into without her supervision.

Of course she got behind one of the Walmart snails, the weight-challenged person driving the electronic cart, going down the center of the aisle. . . very. . . very. . . very. . . slowly. It took her awhile to maneuver around the offending slowpoke. And when she got back to the Electronics department, he was gone.

"Hey," she summoned over one of the department employees. "Did you see an older man, slender, brown hair, dark eyes, in jeans and a t-shirt?"

"Yeah, the dude got me to get him a Wii, a PS3 and an Xbox. Then he paid a woman 20 dollars for her cart so he'd have somewhere to put them. It was awesome."

"And where did he go?"

"Oh, I guess that way," the electronics dude pointed vaguely towards the middle of the store.

"Oh shit," Emma realized that he still had her phone. She'd have to try to find his ass on foot. . . pushing a cart. Wait, what the hell? She left the empty cart in the aisle.

After scouring through aisle after aisle, she found him in the sporting goods section. He'd found himself a yoga mat and had topped his cart with it. He was looking over the guns and, more significantly, the lineup of people considering buying guns.

As Emma came up to him, he leaned over to her, "Are any of these people allowed to own guns?" he whispered.

"Unfortunately part of the background check does not include an IQ test. For vendor or buyer. Come on," she told him and led him away. "We don't want to interfere with the cultural high light of their week."

Making their way towards the front of the store, Gold was once again distracted by a display of hats. He went to try one on but Emma stopped him, "One word," she told him, "Lice." He put the hat back.

Putting him pushing the buggy, she was able to keep him on track to the checkout registers.

"Why are there so many registers but so few opened?" he asked her.

"Welcome to Walmart," Emma told him. "They never have all the registers open, even on Black Friday. Suck it up."

They waited in line. Emma checked out the contents of the cart. There were the game systems, at least a dozen different games, his sleep pants, his tee-shirts and the yoga mat. There were also some pickled eggs, some silver toned earrings (very much in Belle's style), a pair of slip-on men's sandals, a juicer, a label maker, a bag of dark chocolate Hersey's kisses, and a copy of the game Apples to Apples. _How had he gotten all over the store so fast? _

He had chosen to go out with a live cashier instead of trying the self-checkout. Emma helped him load up the conveyor belt, shaking her head. He paid cash, of course. Emma had him wait in the front and bought the car up to him rather than having him walk out with so much valuable stuff.

He was in high spirits. "This was so much fun. After I got over the people. Are some of these on a special release program and get to come here on the weekend?"

"Pretty much," she agreed. "You want to get something to eat? It's supper time." She informed him.

"Sure, what would you suggest?"

She looked at him for a moment. "How would you feel about a burger?"

"A black bean burger, a veggie burger. . ." he was hesitant.

"I was thinking an angus beef burger with bacon on top."

He looked at her for a long moment, "Emma, I'm not in love with you. What I feel right now is deeper, more permanent than love. I'm in your hands. Drive on," he told her.

They drove through town and she pulled into 51 Grill. "It's a bit eclectic, pizza and burgers. All around excellent. I suggest either the Cuban sandwich or the Smokehouse burger."

Gold chose the burger (as did Emma), also ordered some jalapeno poppers for them to split, and got a Fat Tire beer from tap.

"This is payback for Walmart and recommending this place," he told her picking up the tab.

"I figured you'd be wanting something more substantial. I love both Jefferson and Belle, but I don't have their eating habits. When I get out on my own, this is one of the places that I go. Next time," she told him, "we'll get barbeque."

"I'll make sure there's a next time, then," he promised her.

00oo000ooo000oo00

Emma helped him carry his purchases up the stairs.

There was an envelope taped to his door. He opened the door, dropped what he was carrying and opened the envelope.

It was an invitation to join the building residents for Sunday breakfast at 7:00 (come on down at 6:30 for coffee). It was signed _Belle._

Emma was talking as she followed him, helping him carry his purchases. As she deposited his bags in the living room, she said, "You will be joining us for breakfast tomorrow, won't you? It's on the early side but everybody has stuff they get involved with later on. Get there at 6:30 for Belle's coffee. We all chip in to pay for food and usually Jefferson helps cook it all up and we pig out."

He looked at Emma and the invitation. "Sure, I guess I'll be there." _Otherwise he wouldn't get his coffee._

Emma helped him throw his new yoga pants and tee's into the washing machine and left out.

He went out onto his roof garden and, as always, opened his cigarettes. After taking one out, he noticed there were three left. He sat quietly thinking about the day.

_So little Miss Emma was as ATF agent. That hadn't shown up in her background check but he supposed the agency had gone to some lengths to cover her. He didn't anticipate needing her help but it was nice to know that she was available. One never knew. _

_And Walmart had been fun. _

He glanced at the living room.

_He had a ton of stuff to hook up. _

_And Emma ate meat. _

_She took him to get a hamburger. _

_Great girl, that. _

_. . . but not Belle._

_Six days down, thirty-six days to go. _

**A.N. Hope everybody enjoyed the Walmart chapter. I just imagined Gold going bonkers in the store and Emma having to reel him in. **

**Special thanks to ****Leafena and ****juju0268 for the "ugly apron" design. **

**Thanks to all the new followers and favoriters and, of course, thanks to all those of you who took your time to send me a review: Attracted2Insanity, TeamTHEFT, The Auburn Girl , Anonymous Nerd Girl, juju0268, Tinuviel Undomiel, Hermitess, cheesyteal'c, Leafena., thedoctorsgirl42, AngelofDarkness1605, Claire (Guest), , TcEm, Guest, Rumple's Slave, Ying-Fa-dono and anon (Guest) (Gosh I hope I got everybody).**

**To Anon (Guest) - good catch. These women are more than "just friends" – there are a couple of other crumbs that explain the comment (which will get clarified in the next chapter if you haven't got it figured out before hand).**

_NEXT: Gold discovers an interesting secret about Belle and her friends._

_Gold and Belle go to Earth Fare and create some hot stuff in the kitchen_

**And I promise you people I can't keep updating twice a week. I really do have to go and teach a class in the evening (after a regular day at work). It's fun but eats into my writing time. **


	7. Instigating Fruit

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Seven**

**Instigating Fruit**

0000oo0000oo0000oo0000

There was a discrete knock at the door very early Sunday morning and Belle was there. She was carrying his coffee. "I thought you might could use it," she handed it off to him. He took it in one hand and then caught her hand with his other hand.

"Thank you, Belle. Thank you. You're taking very good care of me."

She laughed, "Just trying to keep you around for Bele Chere. Hoping you'll be in good enough shape to dance with me."

He hesitated, ever awkward around this young, beautiful woman, "Bele Chere? What is that?"

"Our big downtown celebration of the arts we have every year at the end of July. You will still be in town then. They set up one of the big dance areas outside of my store and different bands play. Lotsa people come and dance. I'm hoping. . . well, I'm hoping you will be around to dance with me then," she smiled shyly at him. "Now you are coming down to breakfast with us all, aren't you?"

He was still hplding her hand.

He didn't answer her, just pulled her to him and gently kissed her. He couldn't get his arms around her, still holding the coffee, but still managed to get a response from her. Her eyes closed and he could feel her leaning into him. _Damn, he should've planned the morning kiss better. _

She slowly pulled back, not looking at him, keeping her eyes down. He kissed her on the top of her forehead, on the hairline, inhaling the gentle, pleasant scent of her shampoo or her soap or _was it just Belle smell? _

"Yes, I'm coming down to breakfast with you," he told her. _I'd go to perdition with you, my dear. _

0o00oo000ooo000oo00o0

Everyone in the building was there and a few others that he had not met. One big bruiser, a blond, blue-eyed _Lebensborn _was there, hanging with Mary Margaret.

There were a number of food items that Gold recognized had come from the little garden, notably the tomatoes and some of the onions. Jefferson was prepping a seitan bacon, onion and potato frittata (done with tofu instead of eggs), something called dosas which he served with a cranberry chutney, some ABC muffins, which he explained were done with apple juice, bananas and cashews and a quinoa pudding fixed with fresh peaches and raisins. There was coffee and tea, along with fruit and flax seed smoothies to drink.

Gold filled his plate, thinking that this was a good deal more to eat than his usual fare. But it was palatable. The muffins were especially good.

Reminded him of his usual morning scone.

The big bruiser came and sat down next to him. He introduced himself as James Nolan.

Gold recognized him as the Deputy Mayor and Mary Margaret's significant other. They were joined by Jefferson and the men relaxed, watching the pretty women flit around and chit chat with each other.

"I heard you got pulled into their coven meeting last Wednesday night," Nolan said to him.

"Their what meeting?" Gold was bewildered.

"Our lady friends are practitioners, or didn't you know?" Nolan explained, but this left Gold more confused.

"Practitioners?" _He remembered seeing that on Belle's store window, something about 'supplies for the practioner'._

"Old earth religions, pagans, wiccans," Nolan added.

Jefferson joined in. "They're a bunch of witches," he said succinctly.

Gold sat quietly. "Witches!" he repeated. _Well crap. So what did that mean?_

"Nice enough girls. They celebrate all the old holidays. Lotsa dancing, lotsa eating," Nolan was continuing to explain things.

"Lotsa sex," Jefferson shared. "Well, at least some of them. Mary Margaret sticks with Nolan here. Emma, well, I'm not sure what she's in to but I'm guessing something. And there's Belle and I've never known her to even go out on a date. She absolutely keeps to herself."

"Although I hear you've got a shot," Nolan said to Gold. "From what Mary Margaret is telling me, you've got her complete attention."

Jefferson looked him in the eye, "She's a special lady, though you already know that. We don't want to see her hurt."

Gold sat back, very nearly smiling. These men were definitely defending his Belle, "Gentlemen, I assure you, I mean the lady no harm."

Nolan smiled at him, "We hope not. We know you're rich and powerful and all, but if we thought you were just using her or misleading her, well, things just might start to go wrong around here, little things, aggravating things."

Gold recognized a threat when he heard one, but also appreciated what he was being told. He considered what they had just told him, "So our lady friends are witches, huh? Broomstick riding, spell-casting, cauldron stirring witches?"

"No broomstick riding," Jefferson told him. "Maybe not so much cauldron stirring either, but yeah, there's the occasional spell casting."

"Are they dangerous?" he asked.

"Probably," Nolan told him. "But they believe that all magic comes with a price, so they are damn careful. Mary Margaret has said they believe that everything comes back on you three times. Usually they just use their energies to get good parking places, but I wouldn't want to cross them."

"I'd agree with that," said Jefferson. "They're on my side right now and I plan to keep it that way."

Gold raised his smoothie and toasted them. "Gentlemen, to magic and to women."

"I'll drink to both of those," Jefferson raised his glass and Nolen followed suit.

Mary Margaret happened over at that moment, "What are you fellows up to? You look so serious over here."

"Just wondering if the Panthers have a prayer this year, darling," Nolen responded quickly.

"Uh hummm," she didn't act like she was buying it, but didn't dispute the topic. She sat down next to Nolan and was soon joined by Emma, who sat across from Gold and next to Jefferson. Belle came and sat between Jefferson and Gold.

"Do. . . do. . . do you have plans for the day?" Gold finally managed to ask her.

"Brushing the cats, cleaning my apartment, my finances, running to the Earth Fare for my groceries. . . no, not really," she answered him.

"I can help you with those things."

"Really?"

"I could brush the cats."

"No help with cleaning the apartment, huh," she made a face at him.

"Hey, I can dust, vacuum, do dishes, do laundry," he defended himself.

"Oooo, a man who knows how to clean. Why haven't you gotten snatched up before now?"

He hesitated and Belle realized that she had hit a nerve. "I'm so sorry. I'm guessing that you've been through a divorce or. . . " and the thought suddenly hit her, "or your wife died?"

He didn't like seeing the unhappy look on her face. "Divorce. Pretty ugly one following about thirty years of a really unhappy marriage."

"I didn't mean to intrude. It's not my business." The playful mood seemed broken now. He wanted to get it back.

"I'm much better now," he told her.

She managed a weak smile. "How about this? I do my things. You do your things and say at 12:30 you come on down and I'll have you a nice lunch at 1:00."

"Sure," he'd agreed to anything as long as it involved her. This was perfect. He would have her by herself. And he didn't care if she served him boiled grass clippings with deep fried cat crap.

He enjoyed just being with the woman.

At 12:30 on the dot he found himself sitting in one of her chairs, not the floor this time. He caught himself watching her move around. She was graceful and fluid and moved like a dancer, well, except for the occasional tripping over the linoleum and walking into counter corners. . . and dropping things. . . and knocking things over. The black cat had meandered out and had sat down by him. After having apparently debated the matter the cat jumped into his lap.

Belle called out asking him to get the brush from the table in front of him and brush the fuzzy thing. So Gold began to groom the animal. The cat sat purring tolerating his attentions. Gold had not seen hide nor hair of the other cat.

Belle soon had him up helping her chop vegetables. It was amazing. Milah had never done any cooking, much less did she have him help her in the kitchen.

He noticed that Belle had fresh flowers on her table (he thought they might be from the little roof garden). Milah had elaborate flower arrangements scattered throughout the house, all as part of some decorating schema, but nothing ever sat on the kitchen table, nothing there that was fresh and done just to brighten up the room.

He felt enormously comfortable with this young woman. She seemed to like him. _But how to approach her? What to do next? Damn, sometimes he felt like such a coward._

Belle informed him that her cooking skills were severely limited but she did know how to make a stir-fry. She pulled out rice from a little rice cooker. She piled on the vegetables. She tried to teach him to use chopsticks.

Belle then tried to ask the man a few questions about his personal life, not to pry but because she was genuinely interested in this enigmatic man. However, after admitting to having a son, he seemed quite uncomfortable, so she dropped it.

Gold tried asking her about her own background. She shared that she had gone to college and majored in library science. She'd had a boyfriend when she was in high school, but no one since. He'd been the star quarterback on the football team and she'd been the brainy girl who'd tutored him through algebra. When he actually asked her out, she had been so very flattered. But then, the high school boyfriend had turned out to be a big jerk and she just hadn't gotten interested in anyone since. And no, there was nothing between her and Jefferson, just good friends. She'd been operating the shop for five years now. She made a profit and seemed to be getting along but was frightfully busy. Thursdays and Sundays were the only days she ever took off.

She realized that she had been talking non-stop about herself and stopped, realizing that the man had maneuvered her into it. _Clever man._

She decided to change the subject.

"Hey, I've talked enough about me. Answer one question for me, about yourself, please."

She had asked so nicely. He nodded.

"Have you been sick?"

He sat quietly a moment, surprised at her perceptiveness. "I guess you would say so," he answered. "My son and my doctor were concerned about me. They wanted me to take a rest."

She nodded her head as if this fit in with her own thoughts about him.

He helped her with the dishes and settled in for what he anticipated would be a pleasant afternoon of conversation. _Which, he hoped, might lead to something else_.

Belle brought it up shyly. "Hey, if you say no, I'm ok with it, but I really need to make a fruit and vegetable run down to the Earth Fare. I was planning on using the Saturn. . . "

"But I would be happy to drive you. How far away is this place?"

"I like to go to their new store on Hendersonville Road."

"Then let's go," he quickly agreed.

He waited with some curiosity while Belle gathered some cloth bags together.

"You're bringing your own grocery bags?" he asked.

"Always," she told him. "This week I just have a short list."

They had walked out and over to the garage and Gold held out his new key. He didn't know which car would respond but knew it had been parked near his Lamborghini.

He remembered that he had told them not to get him a black car. And vaguely recalled that he had asked for something perky. _What had he been thinking?_

Well, there it was. obediently blinking it's lights in response to him hitting the clicker.. A bright perky lemon yellow color.

"Wow, what a great color!" said Belle. "Not like I'd think you'd pick out. Bright and cheerful."

_He didn't think she had meant that to sound like a criticism. It was good that she liked it. He wasn't so sure._

Belle asked him, "When did you have time to go out and buy this?"

He shrugged, "I just made a call."

Belle just shook her head. He heard her murmur "Wizard."

Ooooooo000ooooooO

It was a pleasant drive. It had been a very long time since he'd been in a grocery store. It took him back to his bachelor days. But he didn't remember grocery stores looking like this one did with wooden floors, multiple sample displays and a huge coffee section. He watched Belle pick out organic produce. She would pick up a peach and smell it and put it back. Then she would pick up another peach, smell it and put it back. Then she would pick up another peach and so forth until she had picked up just about every peach in the bin. She then picked out three peaches and put them into her cart. She would then do the same procedure with the plums. . . and the apricots.

_Would that she would put that much attention into touching him. _

_He'd like to touch her the way she was touching those peaches._

"There sure are a lot of different kinds of apples here," he observed pulling himself out of his reverie.

"Well, this is North Carolina. We're in the heart of apple country. If you are ssomehow around here on Labor Day, I'll take you down to Hendersonville for the apple festival. My favorite is the Honey Crisp but they're out of season right now. Peaches are in season right now. They get most of these up from South Carolina."

"Do you only buy organic produce?" he had to ask her.

"Mostly, especially for the Mean Thirteen, which is mostly fruit. Emma said you had gotten a juicer. Don't you want to get some fruit and vegetables for it? Carrots and apples are always good juiced up."

"Sure," he took her advice and got a humongous pack of carrots and a bag of apples.

She suggested that he might want a little ginger with that, so he threw that into the cart.

He watched Belle buy fruit, vegetables, whole grains, and some green tea. _Jeez, she was the poster child for healthy eating. No alcohol_._ No junk food._

He drove her back, helped her unpack the groceries, watched as the put the fruit into her fridge and once she had gotten everything put up he corralled her against the table edge and leisurely began to kiss her, slipping his hands under her tank top. She didn't protest. She kissed him back. Her arms went around him. He began to lift off her top. She didn't protest. Her hands then went down to his tee-shirt and she started pulling it up, getting her hands underneath it. He lifted her, her clogs dropping off her feet and he placed her fine rear end on the table and then pulled her legs up to wrap around his hips.

He had unfastened her bra and slipped it off her shoulders. She shivered and seemed suddenly shy, laid bare to his gaze. He remembered she hadn't been with a man in . . . well, ever. She'd been with a boy, a selfish, inept jerk of a boy, it sounded like. His hand went to her breast and he was quite pleased to find it fit perfectly into his grasp, the nipple instantly responding to the heat and pressure of his palm.

He allowed her to pull the tee-shirt off over his head. By now Belle was kissing him in the hollow of his neck. She was reveling in his scent and the smooth, firm texture of his skin. He could feel her teeth graze against him. Her arms had gone around his neck and she was clinging to him.

She seemed ready enough to him.

_He was sure as hell ready._

He bent to kiss her one more time, feeling her mouth open to his and allowing him to take possession.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing came in pants.

_Yeah, she seemed quite ready. _

"Belle, I want to have you. In a bed, not here. Not this first time."

She nodded, her eyes opening, dazed. She glanced towards a hallway and he guessed that was the direction of the bedroom. He knew, even as slight as she was, that he probably wouldn't be able to carry her. He'd have to walk her. He slipped her off of the table.

And then had a sudden thought.

"Belle, darling. You are on some type of birth control, aren't you?"

His world crashed down around him when she shook her head, "No."

_Damn, damn, damn. _

He knew he didn't have any condoms, hell, not even a condom.

_Why the hell hadn't he gone into one of the little drug stores, what were they called? a Walgreen's or a CVS, and picked up a box while they were out?_

_Hell, he could have picked them up at Walmart._

_Damn, damn, damn. _

"It'll be all right," he heard Belle say.

"Belle, no." Oh, this hardest thing he'd had to say in a long time. "Belle, I have no reason to think I'm shooting blanks and you're a healthy, young woman. Our relationship is complicated enough without risking making it more complicated."

"Emma might could help us out," Belle suggested in a small voice.

"Yeah, Emma strikes me as the kind of girl who would carry breath mints and condoms, just to be prepared. But no, I'm not going across the hall to ask Emma if we can use one of her condoms."

"Please," Belle was pleading.

_This was killing him. _

"Come," he took her hand and roughly led her back to the bedroom. "On the bed," he ordered. She set herself on the bed, covering herself, unsure of him in this harsher mood.

He reached down and stripped off her skirt and took her plain cotton panties with it. She was now nude and was pulling back from him.

He caught her ankles. "Still," he told her.

She stopped moving. He sat down on the bed and then ran his hands up her legs, stopping at her knees. He held her legs still. He slowly pressed her knees apart and, pulling himself up alongside her, settled himself down, lying down, next to her.

He knew she was alarmed, perhaps even terrified. This was new ground for her. He wasn't about to let her get away. He slowly let his hands drift down the inside of her thighs. He gently touched her on her soft curls. She sucked in her breath.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "Now lay still and relax." He continued to touch and massage her, going around in small circles, not quite touching her most sensitive area. Not quite.

He talked soothingly to her, softly, while he persistently stimulated her, watching her ever expressive face. She was trying to resist, trying not to give in, trying not to surrender to him.

She was losing the battle.

She tried to press her legs together, but he stopped her. She couldn't disguise the moisture oozing from her. Much to her astonishment and a little to her dismay, he dipped his fingers and used the sweet nectar to help him, sliding his fingers between her nether lips, teasing her more determinedly, bringing her along.

Belle began to move her hips against his hands, helpless against him, responding to his cruel attentions, capitulating to his desires. He wanted to see her come for him. He was going to persist until she came undone. He slipped first a single finger into her. She was tight, unused for so long. He allowed her to adjust to the intrusion. He pushed and was able to slip in a second finger, hearing her gasp. All the while he continued to apply pressure and gently rub her, and now he was directly teasing her firm, engorged, tender, and sensitive clit. He began pressing her, stroking her on this most sensitive area.

And she could no longer hold back. She could no longer deny him. She first became very still and then her entire body clenched.

He felt her, he saw her. She cried out, spasmed and her body bucked against his hand. It was violent and all-consuming, lasting a satisfyingly long time.

_Beautiful, he thought. _

But then she was crying. He was surprised and concerned and pulled her to him, cradling and petting her. _He hadn't expected this._

"I wasn't expecting. . . " she began. "I didn't know. It was wonderful. But. . . " she looked up at him, tears still pooling in her crystal eyes. . . "You didn't get any relief. Let me. . ."

He stopped her. "No, the first time I get relief with you," he kissed her on the mouth, "I will be inside of you," he finished. He kissed her nose and her forehead and left her on the bed.

0o0o0o0o000o0o0o0o0

Belle lay for a moment on her own bed.

Good god, the man had stripped her off and then caressed her into an incredible orgasm and, after a quick kiss, had just left. She was still trembling and not entirely sure she could walk. She gingerly got herself up and followed the backwash of her clothes, panties, skirt, bra, tank top, clogs.

_The man had seen her naked, had touched her most intimately and had forced a climax upon her. A wonderful, hard, delicious climax. __This changed everything._

:O

Gold had somehow managed to make it back upstairs and into his bathroom where he was able to relieve himself. He knew well enough that had Belle touched him, even ever so slightly, then he would have lost control and expended himself into her hand or onto her pert little breasts. He had barely made it back to his own apartment and took but a moment to take care of his own needs.

He then went, as usual, and sat on his balcony that evening. He had three cigarettes left that he hadn't smoked. He decided not to smoke another one.

_So Belle was a witch. _

_What did that mean?_

_She certainly wanted him._

_Maybe as much as he wanted her._

_Nice to know._

Day Seven down, thirty-five more to go.

**A.N. Thanks (of course) to: The Auburn Girl, Attracted2Insanity, white raven (Guest), anon (Guest), Anonymous Nerd Girl, DruidKitty, Ying-Fa-dono, Tinuviel Undomiel, cheesyteal'c, Rayvah, celkin, Girlyemma96 (twice), TeamTHEFT, Mini Nicka, TcEm, cat4444, The Prince's Phoenix, AngelofDarkness1605, MyraValhallah, Grace5231973, Leafena, Hermitess, NicoleMuenchSeidel, thedoctorsgirl42, NightowlsNest, and Thalaba for all the insightful, challenging, funny, curious and just plan appreciative reviews – I enjoy them all (sorry I wasn't able to get back with everyone - life and all - specifically, 26 students in my class to prep materials for). **

**Hope none of you are hit by the snow storm in the northeast. Thinking about those people for sure and hope they stay warm. txm **

_NEXT: Gold talks with a business rival_

_and Emma asks for money_


	8. An Obstacle

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 8**

**An Obstacle**

00-00-00-00

He got coffee with Belle on Monday morning, kissing her long and hard on the mouth, not caring who saw them, even if it was Ruby in her apron replete with dancing cartoon mice waving spatulas. Belle didn't seem to object to his attentions.

He took a moment to enjoy his coffee and a cream cheese scone before leaving his usual twenty on the table.

Gold had one extremely important errand to accomplish and, as soon as the little drug store on Patton Avenue opened, he dropped in and acquired some accoutrements so that another romantic rendezvous would not be disrupted by cold, harsh reality. He then spent the early morning walking the neighborhood.

At 9:30, with some trepidation, he went back to his apartment. He changed into the sleep pants (that Emma had insisted would serve as yoga pants), added one of the pocket tees that Emma had gotten him and, finally, put on his Walmart sandals. He went on to his yoga class.

Now that turned out to be fun. He stretched, he lay on the floor and thought kind thoughts, he stretched some more, he mimicked alot postures (to the best of his ability) and stretched again and then had a long spell of imaging light coming out of his stomach. Different, easy, relaxing.

He went home and changed back to his jeans and one of the black tee's. He took a moment to hook up the PS3. He juiced some of the carrots and an apple. Added some ginger. It was delicious. He felt inordinately proud of himself.

He took Belle's lunch suggestion, Boca's, and, on a whim, brought back the chicken pambazo for himself and the Mexican veggie bowls for Belle and Ruby, carrying these back to the store.

As he had before, he then strolled through the bookstore and found a bestseller on the nature of habit formation which he picked up. He found a quiet corner and began to read all about the basal ganglia.

A shadow came over him. There was a slight chill in the air.

"So this is where you've been keeping yourself. Good lord. Dressing like you're homeless, lounging around in the afternoon. And have you quit shaving?"

The speaker was a beautiful woman, a stunningly beautiful woman. Dressed in a custom made silk suit with shiny spike heels. Coifed and well made-up. Classy looking.

Uninvited, she sat down at his table.

"Gold what the hell kind of game are you playing?"

He looked the woman over. "I'm relaxing. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Letting your business slide into the crapper," the woman said sharply. "You stay here like this and Cora's going to take that little company you've got your eye on. Take that sweet, little deal right out from under you."

"Reul, I thought that's what you wanted to do," he replied politely.

"Robert, of course it is. But if I can't have them, I'd rather you get them over Cora, over Hart Industries. She'll squash the life out of that little company."

"So you're here to. . . ?" he needed to have her say what she wanted.

"I'd like to make a deal with you."

He spoke distractedly, "Would you like some coffee? The best barista is not on this shift, but Ashley can do a passingly decent cappuccino or latte."

Reul shook her head, "I don't want coffee. I want to make a deal with you." She sounded exasperated.

"I heard. I'm not making deals right now. I'm on vacation," he told her patiently.

"Are you shitting me?" she sounded disbelieving. "Have you completely lost your edge?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm on vacation," he repeated.

"Listen I know you've never forgiven me about my role in what happened to Bae's first little business venture. . . "

"Well, what can I say, the kid learned a valuable lesson about who to put his trust into," Gold commented.

"But move on, already! After what you did with one of my little sister corporations. . . "

"The Sunshine Agency? Not the same thing," he corrected her. "That company was promising things they couldn't deliver on, taking people's life savings, messing with their lives. It should have gone down," he turned back to his book.

Reul wasn't walking. "Please Robert, consider. If Cora gets this little company, we both know the technology will be lost."

"So what would you offer me. . . if I were to consider a deal?" he acted as if he might be relenting.

"Blue would handle it, no direct involvement from you. You would just provide the funding and get a cut off the top. We'd market it, direct the development, all the day-to-day details."

"Reul, you really must think I'm slipping. That deal would give me no input, no veto, all the responsibility and none of the power. I don't think so."

"But you know that together we can stop Cora. Working together, we're a sure deal."

"I'm a sure deal by myself, Reul. I'm willing to try to take you both down. Now," he picked up his book and focused his attention on it. "run along, and do what ever little manipulations you're into at the moment. Go on and work your magic, such as it is."

The woman sat, nearly pouting. "This isn't over."

He sighed as he watched her clip on out of the bookstore. _It never is. _

He grimaced. _Another one of the great bitches in his life had caught up with him. Had come all the way down from New York just to chat with him. (Well it wasn't like she just happened to be walking down main street Asheville and had happened upon him). She must be getting desperate._

000ooo000ooo000ooo000

Emma dropped by his table later that afternoon.

"I need a hundred and twenty dollars," she told him.

He just looked at her.

"In twenties," she added.

He continued just looking at her.

"My three nervous 'friends' would want you to give me the money," she explained.

"They can't give you money?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Of course not, everything here is unofficial. The money will go to some new friends you'll be making."

He sat back and looked at her. "Tell me more," he ordered.

She pursed her lips and finally relented. "All right. I've got some 'friends' that help me out unofficially. They are more or less street entertainers so they don't attract much attention here. They'll be keeping an eye on you. I need to pay them."

Gold looked at his fingernails, as if he was thinking things over. "Tell me about them," he asked her again.

Emma considered and realized he wasn't going to give her the money until he was sure of what he was investing into. "There are five kids. Their leader is Peter Banning. Smart, savey young man. He is the most clever of the lot and, so far, has proven to be entirely trustworthy. He was pretty wild up until about eight months ago when he met a girl, Wendolyn. She seemed to give him focus and calmed him down."

Gold nodded, "The right woman?"

"Sure, that'll work. The other three, and I only know their street names, include Tootles, a sweet fellow, Slightly, the most talented musician of the lot, and Nibs, who will take on all comers. They have a street band, kinda celtic, kinda goth, kinda jazz, their own style of music. Wendy sings and dances – she's really talented. Does some gymnastic moves, so light on her feet you'd think she could fly. She's darling. Anyway, they can move around anywhere and nobody notices them. One or another of them will keep an eye on you to make sure no one's following you or anything."

"How old are these kids?" Gold asked.

"Peter assures me that everyone is at least eighteen, but I suspect several are younger than that. But they're hard workers and reliable if they're paid. I just need twenty dollars for each of them as startup capital."

"How are they able to live on what they're probably earning as street musicians?" Gold was curious.

"Peter takes care of them. They're like his family. Jefferson and a couple of the other restaurants will give them leftover food. Belle and some of the other store owners will let them stay in back rooms if the weather turns nasty. Winters are hard for them but Peter knows all the angles. Belle and I are trying to get them back in school, but we haven't made much progress yet."

"How'd you meet them?"

"They're helping me on my other. . . project."

Gold looked at Emma for a while. "All right. But I don't want to be tripping over them."

He handed her off the money.

0000ooo00ooo0000

"Have supper with me?" he had asked Belle before he left her shop.

She had agreed.

_He was anticipating a very pleasant evening. Perhaps something that would turn out better than the night before._

"I need to tell you something," Belle told him once she got to his apartment. She kept clasping and unclasping her hands.

_Oh dear. Was this the beginning of a 'we need to talk' conversation?_

At his request, Jefferson had sent up two orders of tofu 'crabby' cakes with corn on the cob and new red potatoes,

Belle ate in silence and he was beginning to worry. She seemed distracted. Worried. _What was up? Was there an old boyfriend she hadn't told him about? Had she changed her mind about him and didn't want to see him anymore?_

She finally looked him right in the eye, "This is so embarrassing, but I wanted you to know right away."

He waited. _What the hell was she about to share?_

"Bobby, I'm so sorry, but my. . .my. . " she couldn't get it out.

"Belle you can tell me anything?"

"Bobby, my period just started," she finally blurted it out, blushing furiously.

He sat for a moment. _He remembered all too well that for Milah her monthly cycle was a grand excuse to avoid contact with him but, at the same time, one of the ways she could get attention. He remembered that she typically complained of cramps, actually she cried, moaned and carried on about her cramps._

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked solicitously.

"I guess so. I mean it's just the usual, cramps, bloating, a little fever, cranky," she looked rather sad. "I'm sorry. I was thinking we were going to get to . . . well, get to know each other. . .better, but I don't think I can handle _that_, you know, right now.I'm so sorry."

"Please don't apologize for being female, Belle. I like the fact that you are a woman very, very much." He got up and taking her hand, helped her rise from her chair.

He kept her hand in his. "I would like for you to spend the night here. Even if we aren't going to. . .ah. . .be initimate. Sleep with me. I'd like to hold you."

Belle smiled, but dropped her eyes. "You know I'm going to be whiny and crabby and complain a lot. And I'm fat. I've bloated up about three pounds."

"Go get whatever you need for tonight and tomorrow morning. I want you to join me while I sit on the balcony while the sun goes down."

Belle hesitated but finally nodded. He watched her as she went out the door to return to her own apartment to be a few necessities.

_She'd agreed to sleep with him. _

_Not sex, mind you. Just to share his bed in the most literal sense._

_He'd have that delightful, responsive little body in his hands._

_All night._

He waited on the roof garden for Belle to join him.

At the end of Day Eight (thirty-four days to go), he noted that he had four cigarettes left in his pack.

**A.N. Thanks to Leafena for the Dancing Mice apron idea.**

**Thanks to those amazing (as ever) reviewers: DruidKitty, Tinuviel Undomiel, The Auburn Girl, ****Ying-Fa-dono****, ****The Prince's Phoenix, Grace5231973, cheesyteal'c, Anonymous Nerd Girl, anon (Guest), TeamTHEFT, Girlyemma96, PhantomPenguin , MyraValhallah, thedoctorsgirl42, Leafena, Rumple's Slave, Claire (Guest), juju0268, Hermitess, and TcEm. You people keep me going.**

_Next: Reminiscing about the night together (not quit smut)_

_Introducing the Bakery Street Irregulars_

.


	9. New Allies

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Nine**

**New Allies**

In the course of the night, after she had nodded off, Gold had easily been able to strip off Belle's delicate, lacy feminine little nightdress, so that she spent the night cradled up against him clad only in her plain cotton white granny panties. He'd regarded them with some amusement and guessed that _s__he'd probably bought them at Walmart._

She was restless. He assumed she was in some pain. She felt warm to his touch as if she was running a slight fever.

He had placed his hand over her stomach and she, in her sleep, had wiggled her desirable little tush up against his aroused member, snuggling into him. His other hand, well, this he managed to close onto one of her plump little breasts, enjoying how it fit so very nicely into his palm. He had spent part of the night, on and off, teasing the nipple, sometimes pulling on it, a few times pinching it until she gasped, teasing the softness all around it. He was able to spend time on each one of her breasts, sharing his efforts on first one, then the other. At times he would kiss her along the back of her neck and down onto her shoulder. She would shiver and give out a soft cry. He could feel her shifting her legs, as if she was opening herself for his use. At one point she caught his hand and began to suck on his forefinger, using her tongue against it, pulling up and going down on it. He could not help but mentally transfer her efforts and imagine what the same actions would feel like on his rock hard cock. He couldn't stop himself from wondering how much she would be able to take through her precious rosebud mouth and take down her throat before gagging and having to pull back.

_He needed to stop thinking those thoughts. _

_Soon, soon enough._

At times she shifted. At one point she was lying on top of him, her head turned sideways and her breathing coming in pants, burning a moist spot onto his chest _as if she had collapsed on top of him after a hard ride. _

At another time, after he had drifted off, he realized that he had pulled her beneath him, pinning her to the bed with his weight and she had opened herself up to him, one of her legs wrapped around him. _It was as if they could not get close enough to each other._

Belle enjoyed the warmth of the man holding her to him. She felt enormously safe with his arms around her. She knew he had well and truly felt her up, running his hands, tracing his fingers over her entire body. When he had begun to tease her, playing with her overly sensitive breasts, kissing her neck, she had trembled. She knew he was preparing her for his most earnest, most intense, most sincere attentions, for penetration, for possession. Perhaps not for tonight, but soon, as soon as she was comfortable enough.

She was scared. Her high school boyfriend had taken quite a bit of time, on several occasions, to make sure she had understood that she was a completely inadequate and clumsy girlfriend, not really worth his valuable time. Gaston had had problems with actually managing penetration and he would typically spend himself before he could engage with her, something that he had always been sure to let her know was entirely her fault. And Belle was now afraid that this worldly, sensual man, more experienced than herself, would also find her sub-par and would reject her after finding her so inexperienced and . . .not. good. enough.

They both woke at six. Belle was snuggled against him with her head on his arm, lying on her side facing him while he lay on his back. Her arm was draped across his chest and one of her legs had been lifted to lay across his stomach. She pulled back off of him and lay back onto her back.

_She realized her nightdress was gone. Had she taken it off or had he? _

She also now realized that he had shifted to his side and he was now looking at her, his head propped in his hand, his eyes dark and glinting in the early morning light.

"I guess it's time to get up," she murmured.

He didn't respond with words, but let his hand trace down the side of her face.

"I really need to be getting up. I'll need to get a quick shower, water the plants, and get on down to the store," she said hurriedly.

He still hadn't said anything. Which made her nervous.

"I'm sorry if I was moving around a lot last night. I wasn't feeling well and I. . ." _What, I was so completely turned on that I was hoping you would just go ahead and ignore what I had said and totally jackhammer me into the mattress? Was hoping maybe you'd demand I'd go down on you and give you a little relief? _"I didn't sleep well," she finished awkwardly.

_He nearly smiled. He'd remembered that his first impression of the woman was that she was like a little chipmunk in the morning, chipper, chatty and far too happy. It didn't bother him now._

"Best night's sleep I've had in a very long time, my dear," he told her honestly. _Not that he'd actually slept much. _

He watched her get up, quickly finding the nightdress and slipping it on _as if what he had so thoroughly explored with his hands was forbidden to his sight. _

"I'm going to grab a shower. I'll be quick," she smiled and ducked into the bathroom.

He considered joining her but thought he wouldn't be welcome. She was so shy, even embarrassed about her bleeding, something he thought of as a normal, if somewhat inconvenient, bodily function.

Oh well, it would only be a few days. He could wait.

He took his shower after she'd completed hers and by the time he had gotten out and dressed, she had watered the plants and was gone.

He went on down the stairs and on into the store. Ruby was there, wearing an apron that looked like a wolf's face with strings that looked like a tail. Ruby looked at him closely, then looked over at Belle. Belle blushed.

"Something's changed," Ruby said. She didn't say anything else as Gold caught Belle and kissed her on the mouth, lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Belle brought him his coffee and something called a frog scone, which she explained was made only with the youngest and most tender of frogs. He regarded her with some skepticism and she quickly giggled and told him that it was frog jam which was made with figs, raspberry, oranges and ginger.

He sighed. That did make more sense. He took hold of her hand and told her quietly, before leaving his usual twenty, "You'll come for supper and stay."

She locked eyes with him. _She realized that he wasn't actually asking her. _"Yes," she told him.

He went out for his usual walk, this time taking careful note of the different street performers. There was one that stuck out to him, not only because they were actually talented, but because they fit the description Emma had given him of what he had labeled in his own mind, 'The Bakery Street Irregulars' (combining Emma's cover job with Sherlock Holmes' s street urchin group that had been used for similar purposes). The girl, in particular was quite talented, both for singing and dancing. A pretty little thing with dark blond hair and fair features. _And if she was eighteen, so was he. _One of the boys (or young men) hung back a bit from the group, watching out for them. Gold pegged him as Peter Banning. He was tall and while he didn't give any direct orders, the others would look to him from time to time. The young man also watched the girl as if she was something too precious, too wonderful. Gold watched them awhile and, catching the eye of the tall young man, he dropped a twenty into the hat in front of them. The young man smiled and nodded at him. It was the same look that the black cat would sometimes give him when that smug little bastard approved of his behavior.

He found some lunch at Mayfel's, getting their BLFGT sandwich (Bacon, Lettuce, Fried Green Tomatoes) and picking up two Sloppy Janes (these, as it was explained to him, were vegetarian sloppy joes) sandwiches for Ruby and Belle. He brought those back to the store.

He'd found another book, this one by Anthony Bourdain and the restaurant business. He was quietly reading this, when, by the mid-afternoon, Emma dropped by.

"You're being followed," she told him shortly.

"I assume by someone other than Peter and his little friends," he glanced up at her, mostly disinterested.

"Someone taking pictures. Seems especially interested in you and Belle."

He sucked in his breath. He didn't like this. What happened to him was one thing, but when the target was Belle. . . well, he didn't like it.

"Peter wanted to know if you might appreciate them. . . taking care of things?"

"I don't want the guy killed," Gold clarified quickly, not sure of what "taking care of things" might mean.

"Roughed up some or should they just take his camera?" Emma asked.

"Maybe just take the little card in the camera where he stores the pictures."

Emma nodded, "That could be arranged." Emma sat a moment.

When he realized that she wasn't going anywhere, he finally cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Peter wanted to thank you for the additional payment. Apparently, you made contact with them this morning."

"I was pretty sure I had found the group and wanted to let them know that. . . I knew."

"Well that worked. Let me have your phone," Emma directed him.

He handed it over, somewhat suspiciously.

She messed with it a while and handed it back. "OK, you've got my number on speed dial under Emma and Peter's under Bakery. If anything comes up and you need help, we're both available."

Before she left she caught him by the shoulder, "I hear Belle spent the night with you, but you both still seem a little. . . tense. Not relaxed like I would expect."

"I don't know that this is your business. . ." he began.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Nothing happened. It's all right, Belle will tell me what's up," she smiled at him.

He was still in the bookstore when he saw the little troupe arrive and, in the shade of the store front they began performing. The girl, Wendolyn?, sang while the young men played. It was at the time of the third song when he saw Peter move across the street and collar a squeegee little guy with a camera. Peter was yelling at the man about hiding and taking pictures of his girl. How it looked smarmy, an older guy taking pictures of a young girl, sneaking around to do it, like he was up to something. Peter was ranting, quickly moving in on the man. The man seemed startled and didn't move fast enough to stop Peter from grabbing his camera.

The man began to protest but then Peter and his group began to toss the camera around, back and forth between each other, taunting and teasing the photographer. Gold never saw who it was, how or when it happened, but he knew that one of them had opened the camera's compartment and removed the memory card. He knew it had happened, because after Peter had relinquished the camera, giving it back to the photographer, the group trailed into Belle's for Italian sodas and Wendolyn (who was even prettier up close) 'accidently' leaned against his table and, gasping out "sorry" she lifted her hand . . . and the card was on the table in front of him.

Gold quickly pocketed the card.

He got up to leave and went by Ashley, who was working as the barista, to let her know that anything the group ordered should be billed to him. And to let Ruby know this also.

He went back up to his own apartment, put the camera card aside, fixed himself another carrot, apple, ginger smoothie and attempted to hook up the Xbox and the Wii but got stymied. He could figure out how to have one at a time connected but not all three. It would take unplugging and plugging to be able to go from one system to another. He didn't like that. He glanced at the camera card. Now there were two computer things to be resolved.

He made a call.

And then he played one of the games he had picked up for the PS3, Assassin's Creed. He poked around, hitting buttons, slowly learning the game and apparently made some progress towards saving civilization, when he realized it was getting near supper. He called down to Jefferson's and ordered supper for two, then asked Jefferson if it would be possible to get some kind of chocolate dessert. He heard Jefferson laugh, but was told it wouldn't be a problem.

He lit a couple of candles and found a few flowers in the rooftop garden that looked reasonably attractive together and put them in a vase on the table. Supper was vegan lasagna with tofu ricotta and tvp 'meat' sauce with a garden salad and buttered bread (Jefferson shared that he usually included garlic bread with this meal but had made an exception for them tonight). Dessert was some version of vegan chocolate pudding. He was told to stick it in the fridge until he was ready for it.

When Belle showed up she was frazzled. It had been a long, hard day and she was discombobulated, not thinking clearly at all. She collapsed in his Ekornes chair.

"I hope you don't mind. It's been a brutal day and I've felt icky on top of everything else."

"Here," he handed her a glass of merlot. She downed it and handed him back the glass. He refilled it. This one she sipped.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked attentively.

She sighed. "No, but aren't you a sweetie for asking. Is that Jefferson's lasagna I smell?" she asked. "That's one of the best things he makes!" She managed to get herself up and come over to the table

"Flowers and candles. Mr. Cash. . . uh. . .Bobby, are you trying to seduce me?" she asked him smiling.

"I suspect, Miss Belle, that I already have. This is just to keep you interested." He helped her into her seat, leaned down and lightly kissed her by the ear lobe and down the side of her neck. She turned her head and, as he was about to stand up, she touched his cheek and urged him to her lips, which he quickly responded to.

"Maybe we should pass up the garlic bread," she said breathlessly.

"Jefferson substituted vegan 'buttered' bread."

"Perceptive of him," Belle said quietly.

"I thought so. I gave him an extra tip," Gold confessed. He managed to release her and turned to his own seat.

The two ate quietly, Belle downing two more glasses of wine.

"This is really good wine," she told him.

"This did not come from Jefferson's. This is one that had been stocked here for me," he shared.

The two shared their meal, which even Gold had to agree was one of Jefferson's best. They ate in silence each occasionally stealing a glance at the other. When Gold brought out the chocolate pudding, he thought that Belle might cry.

"How sweet!" she told him and dove into the pudding. "I guess you know that I have a thing for chocolate?" she told him.

"No, but I have lived long enough to know that many, many women like chocolate at. . .uh. . . this time of the month."

"Well, you got that right," she told him and downed her fifth glass of wine while digging into the pudding. She ate her share. Gold, after catching several wistful glances, pushed his own pudding over to her. She downed it, too.

She stood and wavered. "I'm kinda dizzy," she told him.

"I shouldn't wonder," he let her know. "Here take a seat." He'd led her over to the sofa.

"Cool. You got one of the video games hooked up." She was a little woozy. She picked up the controller. "It won't turn on." She began to randomly punch buttons.

"Here," he tried to help her but before he could get things started, there was a knock at the door.

"Let me get that." se left her on the sofa, pushing buttons without any plan, trying to get the game going.

It was Nurse Lucas. "Random visit, Mr. Gold."

He held up his hand to stop her. "Call me, Mr. Cash. Please," he told her quickly. He looked back at Belle but she had not seemed to have heard anything.

"Whatever," she shrugged and came on into the apartment. "I see you have company."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Belle hopped up. "I'll go in the back and wait. No problems," she smiled and managed to walk back to his bedroom.

"I seem to be interrupting something," the nurse apologized.

He shook his head, "Not really. Nothing is scheduled for tonight." He sat down in one of the dining room chairs. "You need the usual?"

"Yes. Just as before."

And as before, Nurse Lucas worked quickly and efficiently. She frowned when she was taking his blood pressure. "Let me try this in the other arm."

"Problem?"

"It registered a bit low. Let me try it again."

He sat quietly while she pumped up the mechanism. She shook her head. "You are running a bit low. I'm going to let Dr. Hopper know. He may want to adjust your blood pressure medication. You've been exercising?"

"A lot and relaxing, mostly."

"Well, it may already be having an effect. Now how much are you smoking?"

"I'm down a couple of cigarettes a day. Less than a pack, but more than half a pack," he confessed. "I'm drinking about once or twice a week. Tonight, I had a glass a wine."

"With your guest?"

"Yeah, with my guest," he confirmed. He waited, sitting still, while Ms. Lucas took some blood. As before, he took a little jar back to the bathroom, provided a sample and deposited it into the bag.

"How's your stress level?" the nurse asked him before she left out.

"Probably lower than what it was. Still some things coming down on me, but I'm working on the relaxing part. Tell Archie, Dr. Hopper, that I've signed up for a yoga class. That should give him a chuckle."

The nurse smiled at him. "Will do, Mr. Go . . . Cash. I'll see you sometime next week."

He let her out.

He went back to check on Belle and she was laid out crossways on his bed, sound asleep (or was it passed out?). He nearly smiled but instead just shook his head. He saw she had already kicked off her sandals. He pulled off her skirt and tank top and relieved her of her bra and jewelry. He shifted her position so that he could put her under the top sheet.

He went back out to the dining area and cleaned up the supper dishes. He then went out to the rooftop garden and watered the damn plants.

He checked his cigarettes. There were five left.

Then he made a second call for the day. As he was hosting the coven tomorrow evening, he decided that he wanted some extra special things for Girls' Night In. He figured that Belle would probably not be the only female bleeding and he sure as hell didn't want to upset a room full of witches.

Day nine down, thirty-three more to go.

**A.N. Ruby's apron idea came (more or less) from Hermitess**

**Of course I want to thank the faithful readers and awesome reviewers: Girlyemma96, The Prince's Phoenix, DruidKitty, cheesyteal'c, The Auburn Girl, Esmy (Guest), TeamTHEFT, Attracted2Insanity, Vacumatic, Leafena, thedoctorsgirl42, Mini Nicka, juju0268, makaem, Grace5231973, Estrany, Hermitess, Lili (Guest), NicoleMuenchSeidel, TcEm, and AlexandraBelleRose. **

**FYI: The vegan meals come from the facebook page of an amazing vegan restaurant, Sluggo's in Chattanooga, Tennessee (I don't own them either – I've eaten there a few times and I just borrow their daily special for Jefferson). **

_NEXT: What else? Girls' Night In (at Gold's) _


	10. The Un-Wedding

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 10**

**The Un-Wedding**

**A.N. I had planned to delay this but after Sunday night's heartbreaking episode (Gold is in quite a pickle now, lotsa chickens coming home to roost for our most delicious one here), well anyway, I figured we could really use some fluff, so I'm posting early. txm**

He had joined Belle the night before and spent another pleasant evening _and most of the night_ with his hands cleverly exploring her luscious little body. Encountering, but quickly overcoming, a little resistance from her, he had begun to use his lips and tongue to savor her softer, more sensitive parts. He especially enjoyed hearing slight whimpers as he kissed and caressed her on and off throughout the night. He also liked how she kept moving in to be next to him, to be close to him.

She woke up at their usual six o'clock time, slightly bleary-eyed. "Oh no, I passed out, didn't I? I must have had too much to drink." _Yeah, that was what she had to talk about, not her begging him not to stop not to stop not to stop. _

"Had you been taking pain killers?" he asked her. Having done such himself, on several occasions, he wasn't going to judge, but he couldn't help but be concerned. He knew too well that it was a damned dangerous thing to do.

She ducked her head, "Yeah, I suppose so. I don't usually do something like that. I know it's not good. You don't have to lecture me. I'm sorry. And you had such a pleasant evening planned."

"It was pleasant even with you nodding off," he told her. _Was it ever!_ "We'll have to do it again soon. Not the alcohol and pain killers, mind you."

"You are being too nice to me." Belle managed a smile and went off to grab her shower.

Gold lay back on his bed, enjoying the combined smells of Belle and himself. It was nice. They melded well together.

0000oooo00000ooooo00000oooo0 000

Belle took a moment for herself in the shower. _What was happening to her? She couldn't get enough of the man. His touches, his kisses._

_When she would try to resist _why did she try to resist? _he would use his strength and abilities to give her pleasure to coerce her into compliance. Every time. And even though he had not actually had sex with her, he had so thoroughly explored her body with his hands and fingers and often his lips and tongue that she didn't think that the sexual experience itself would offer too much more. He had allowed her to kiss him on his face and down his chest but had stopped her from going further, letting her know that for his first time with her he wanted to be buried deep between her legs, not emptying himself down her throat. _

_Just a couple a days, he had promised her. _

_He took her breathe away. _

_She couldn't stop thinking about him. _

_She wanted him so badly._

000ooo000ooo000ooo000ooo000

Gold enjoyed his morning coffee and peach scone. This morning Ruby was wearing an apron with the notation that her "other ride is a broomstick."

_Appropriate,_ _I guess, _he had thought.

Again, with what was quickly becoming quite a comfortable routine, he took a walk around the neighborhood, nodding to the different store owners who were now familiar with him. Then, at 9:30, he returned to his apartment, changed his clothes and went onto yoga where he enjoyed stretching and posturing and deep, deep breathing. The instructor told him that he was a natural. Although he figured that the instructor likely told all new students that, he found that he was nonetheless pleased. Several of the other students complimented him and asked how long he'd been taking yoga – the assumption was that he was a long-time student and had just transferred to a new class. Also flattering.

He went back to the apartment, changed back into his jeans and made another carrot, apple, ginger smoothie and then decided that he was ready to branch out with other flavors. He got on the Internet and downloaded a couple of recipes that sounded good. In order to make these, he'd need to make another Earth Fare run. That he scheduled for after lunch. He should be able to navigate there and back, after all they had an address and he had a GPS. He'd noticed they also provided paper bags there so he would be all right not to have the cloth bags that Belle lugged around with her.

0000oooo000ooo00oo0o0oo00ooo 000oooo0000

He went to the Early Girl Eatery and got himself a catfish sandwich with fries and got the avocado and sprout sandwich with baked lima beans for Ruby, Ashley and Belle (he had added Ashley to his lunch procurement list when he realized the young woman was there in the store in one of the backrooms, working on her school work until it was time for her shift).

He didn't stay to look over books in the afternoon as he had been doing, letting Belle know he had a quick errand.

"You're not going to a lot of trouble for Girls' Night In are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh no" he lied through his teeth. "I just wanted to get some more fruit and vegetables for my juicer." _Well, that part was true._

OooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooO

He'd dropped over a hundred dollars on organic fruits and veggies. The Earth Fare people had been most helpful when he'd described what he wanted to do. After the fruits and veggies stop, they had also steered him to the cheese counter and he'd indulged a bit there (and of course he had to get some crackers to go with the cheeses). Finally, he'd stopped at the wall-o-beer and a nice beer sommelier (he hadn't known there was such a person) had made a couple of suggestions for both beer and wine. Hell, they had thrown in some of the cloth bags and helped him carry the stuff out to the car.

This was mostly for Girls' Night in. He'd invited them up to his apartment and knew that Belle would be staying on afterwards _through the night_. He wanted her to be happy because he had these growing feelings towards her. He also wanted to be slightly drunk because watching Milah wasn't that comfortable for him.

At 6 o'clock there was a knock on the door and the catering group his concierge had contacted was there with the chocolate. Chocolate truffles, brownies, strawberries (organic of course) dipped in chocolate, chocolate covered cherries, and chocolate mousse. That should satisfy Belle. He would admit to not knowing much about the female psyche but his experiences with Milah had taught him that a dense serving of chocolate could be a powerful as a diamond tennis bracelet (ok maybe not quite as powerful, but he thought that Belle and her friends would appreciate it). He'd made an assumption that since they were all good friends that they were likely on a similar cycle (this too, he had learned from Milah and some of her bitchy friends).

Belle had come in after 7 o'clock and scorffed down Jefferson's chick-un salad plate with the side of sweet potato fries. She went out to water the plants and then, noting the suspicious activity he was engaged in while in the kitchen, she came in to investigate.

It was her undoing.

First Belle was detoured by the strawberries dipped in chocolate. . .and then the brownies. . . and of course the truffles.. . and finally the chocolate covered cherries. She managed to forego the chocolate mousse only because he was still keeping it in the fridge.

"I'm going to eat all this up before my friends get here," she complained.

"They bought three times the amount needed for the number you had at your place last week."

"You're not helping," she admonished him. "What's all this?" she had opened the fridge.

"Chocolate mousse," he told her.

"No. . . I mean. . . wow, chocolate mousse," _she had just noticed that_. "I mean what are all these fruits and stuff."

"I went to Earth Fare and got some things to make fruit juices and smoothies in my juicer and the blender. I also picked up some cheese and crackers for your friends and a couple of bottles of wine and some beer."

Belle stood, shaking her head. "You don't have to do this. We like you without you doing all this. This is just me and my friends getting together and watching a trashy TV show and enjoying a couple of snacks. You're going to spoil us by doing this type of thing."

He very nearly smiled at her. "I like to spoil you," he told her.

Belle felt herself getting warm.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

This time he sat on his special chair, sitting comfortably while the women sat around on his sofa and a few odd chairs. They were impressed with the size of his. . .television set. And the quality of the picture. They were blown away by the banquet he had laid out before them. Belle settled in on the seat of his special chair with his arm curled around her in a casual note of possession. He began drinking some of his wine.

Milah's show tonight was all about a very big decision she had made. She really wanted to have a commitment ceremony with her handsome lover Killian Jones. She wanted to go all out.

Everything looked suspiciously like a wedding without the benefit of clergy.

"I can't believe this," Emma nearly shouted. "She is out to buy an un-wedding dress. She's not gonna marry the guy, but she wants a commitment from him."

"Right, if she marries the guy, she loses the cushy marriage settlement and all that alimony she has coming in," observed Mary Margaret.

Killian Jones walked across the screen. The women all "oooo'd," but then Belle shared, "He is so pretty, but he reminds me of somebody who'd sleep with you, then sleep with your best friend, then lie to you about it."

"I agree. If he was doing her while she was still married, I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's doing somebody else while he supposed to her fellow," Mary Margaret said.

The women all agreed. They then watched Milah go through the farce of picking out an un-wedding dress for her un-wedding. She told the salon people that she had no budget limitations (Gold raised his eyebrows – who. . . how was she paying for this? She wouldn't have the cojones to send him the bill . . . he hoped).

She tried on slinky styles. She tried on mermaid styles. She tried on a-lines. She tried on lace. She tried on silk. Each of these she rejected, although her bff, (a woman Gold readily recognized as her attorney, the ever vicious Regina Mills) would often say she loved them.

"You watch" Belle alerted him. "As soon as she finds a dress she likes the 'friend' will hate it."

Sure enough Milah found an over-the-top ball gown with ruffles. She thought it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. The 'friend' who had liked everything up to this point, rejected the ball gown out of hand.

"It makes you look like a moving van," Regina had told her. "It's huge on you and doesn't show off your curves."

Milah's face fell. "But it is sooooo beautiful."

"But it doesn't make you look beautiful. People will see only the dress and not you," Regina told her.

The women agreed. Regina, although she had been a complete bee-atch about it, had given her sound advice.

_Gold had always thought that Regina's style was more towards pantsuits and masculine touches, as if she often sought to suffocate her femininity. She was certainly bossy enough in bed. _

_It had been after he'd made a couple of million dollars when he realized he was at the mercy of his attorneys. He hadn't liked that and had always had some suspicions that his attorneys had taken some advantage of him. He did some research. Given his business degree from Glasgow University that he had gotten over the course of six years while he was working (with a most respectable G.P.A.), a quick go-round with the LSAT (he'd found he had an aptitude for taking tests and pulled a 178), and a plain spoken admissions essay, he'd applied at twenty-nine to Harvard Law and had been accepted. Admidst rantings and ravings, he'd moved the family to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and settled in for a three year stint. He had done well and graduated fourth in his class. _

_From that point on he had been able to write his own contracts and catch major loopholes in those deals that were thrust in front of him to sign. He became known for his clever contracts, deals that would twist on the fine point of the law. His fortune began to rise exponentially as his business dealings were now sharper and clearer, and far more to his own benefit. _

_Gold had initially hired Regina on as one the attorneys in his contracts division and actually had mentored her before she had jumped ship and gone on into private practice becoming a divorce attorney (likely felt there was more money in the field and, he suspected, she enjoyed watching marriages come apart). _

_He hadn't started sleeping with her until she became his wife's attorney for the divorce; highly unethical on her part, but it fit his own unique sense of irony. She had put her hand on his knee early in the negotiations and he had allowed things to proceed naturally from there. Always in his office or his elevator or his boardroom, mind you. He thought it likely that there were cameras rolling when he was in her territory._

Milah went through twenty more minutes of dress buying before settling on another remarkably fluffy dress complete with lace and tulle and sparkles and, for pete's sake, feathers.

The women around him, in true southern style, all pronounced it "tacky." One of them commented that it looked like something a Disney princess would reject for being too big and too white.

At the same time, Gold thought that Milah did actually look happy, for once in her life. Being the absolute center of attention seemed to have done the trick for her. Well, maybe things would work out. Maybe, just maybe, if Milah was happy, she'd get off his back.

"How is she going to pay for this?" Belle wondered aloud.

As if to answer her, Milah shared that her un-fiancé was about to come into some money and had given her a twenty-thousand dollar budget for the dress.

"Where the hell did Jones come up with twenty thousand?" Gold was startled. He had not realized he had asked the question aloud.

"No doubt some shady business dealings, don't you think?" Emma asked him.

"Well, shady is the only kind of business dealing that man has," Gold replied to Emma.

"You know that?" Belle was suddenly more interested that he would have liked her to be.

"Uh. . . I. . . I would guess. They haven't mentioned what he does for a living," he didn't want to reveal too much about what he knew about Jones and how he knew it.

Emma glanced his way and rescued him, "He looks like he's a grand mooch and lives off women. If he's coming into twenty thousand, I doubt it's from a legitimate job. It's got to be from some kinda deal."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Belle agreed.

The women watched Milah blissfully make her down payment on the gown, promising them that the commitment ceremony would be 'soon.'

Then she turned to the camera. She had a secret to share. "In case you are wondering, my ever disagreeable ex-husband had been seen in some backwoods, sleepy southern town. He is supposed to be on a vacation, but some friends, who have seen him, are telling me that he has completely let himself go. He's dressing like he's a common laborer, in jeans and tee-shirts, even growing a beard. If I didn't know any better I'd say that it sounded like he is pining for me."

"Maybe for the 30,000 a month you're costing him," Ruby suggested.

Mary proposed a toast, "To the ever disagreeable ex-husband. May he grow a beard and find true love."

The women all raised their glasses and then drank, calling out "to true love."

Gold felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He didn't believe in spiritual or otherworldly powers, whether they were Christian or Wiccan or anything else. But he knew he had just gotten hit with a blessing. He felt light-headed. He felt giddy. He felt. . .happy.

The women continued with their gathering for a while and he eventually excused himself heading back to the bedroom. They protested his leaving, but kindly let him go.

In the privacy of his bedroom, he checked his cigarettes. He had five left. He sat on the bed, taking off his shoes and then pulling his feet up. He made a quick call to one of his attorneys: Milah was not to mention his supposed whereabouts, give any descriptions of him and was to be specifically forbidden to show any pictures of him on her show. This was to be on peril of losing her funding for the show. He wanted this taken care immediately. Having done that, he picked up the Bourdain book.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was an hour later and most of the girls had drifted on downstairs and gone homeward. Belle was sitting with her closest friends. They had cleared up the plates and bowls and put leftovers into the refrigerator (what hadn't been divided up for guests to take home).

"Girl, you better be making that man happy," Mary told her. "He is too good to let get away."

Ruby shook her head, "They haven't even had sex yet." She sounded personally disappointed.

Belle was scandalized, "Ruby!"

"Oh, I can tell," Ruby wasn't backing down.

"I would agree," Emma spoke up. "The tension between them is so strong you could cut it with a knife."

"Why aren't you doing it with him?" Mary asked her. "The guy's rich, he's hot, he's nice. I mean really nice. What's the problem?"

"Well we almost did, but then we didn't have a condom. When we got a condom, well," Belle looked down. "my period started and I just couldn't handle sex with him and dealing with, well, you know."

"Well then, you're at least doing him, right?" Mary was still grilling her.

Belle shook her head, "No, he wants our first time to be. . . traditional."

"The guy turned down a blow job?" Ruby was disbelieving. "Oh, you have to marry him. I've never known a guy to turn down a blow job."

"He's pretty old-fashioned, I guess. May be the age thing."

"Are you sure his male parts still work?" Emma asked (a bit crudely, perhaps).

"I would guess so, he seems very interested, if you know what I mean," Belle wasn't as comfortable with this talk as her trollopy friends seemed to be.

"So he's got a package ready for delivery," said Ruby was smiling.

"There are hard times coming to Belletown," added Mary, grinning.

"The man has baby gravy ready for your tasty pudding," this was from Emma.

"Gross!" Belle said.

"Yeah, Emma, that was kinda eeuu," Mary agreed.

"Sorry, got carried away," Emma apologized. "Probably had a little too much to drink."

"I think on that note it's time for us to go," Mary got up. "Take care of him, Belle. He really seems to like you."

Belle's friends left her standing alone in the living room.

Ooo0o00o0ooO

It was about ten minutes later when Belle worked up her courage to come on into the bedroom. He was still up and greeted her. He glanced up from his book.

"Take your shoes off," he told her.

She complied, although she had been about to do this before he had ordered it.

"Now your tank top," he told her. He put the book aside.

Ah, now she understood. He was having her undress for him. She looked down, avoiding eye contact and removed the simple top.

"Now your bra."

She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She reached behind herself, unfastened the binding garment, slipped it her shoulders and pulled the straps down her arms, so that she stood holding the cups next to her own breasts.

"Drop it," came the order.

She did, but even with him having seen her before, having touched her before, she was still embarrassed at being bared before him. She knew she was blushing. She tried to use her arms and hands to cover herself.

"Take your hair down," he told her next.

She had to abandon her attempts to cover herself to take down her hair. She let it flow down her shoulders and her back.

"Your skirt," came next.

She slipped it off. She was standing now wearing only her white cotton panties, a silver necklace and her silver earrings.

"Take off your jewelry," he directed.

That was easy enough.

His eyes narrowed. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Are you wearing a pad or a tampon?" he asked her.

She couldn't believe he had asked that and hesitated before answering, feeling acutely mortified, "A tampon," she managed to reply.

"Then take off your panties."

This was going to be hard. _Yes, he had touched her intimately before. But he had never seen her in the bright light. Not her most private area. _

He waited quietly but when she still faltered, he repeated himself. "Take off your panties. . . please."

She nodded and slipped them off. She was completely unable to meet his eyes.

"You are very beautiful Belle," he told her. "I see no flaw, no imperfection, nothing for you to be ashamed of. Come over here."

She came and stood by the side of the bed. He gently reached out and touched the soft maple curls that concealed her female cleft. "These curls are lovely, but I confess that I am accustomed to a more manicured landscape."

Belle wasn't sure what he was leading up to. "Would you consider revealing more of yourself to me?" he asked her gently.

_Was he asking her what she thought he was asking her? _"Bobby?" she finally responded.

"I think you know what I mean," he told her. "But if you're too shy to say it. . . . then, I will ask you to shave yourself here. . . for me." He brushed his fingers against her.

Belle realized she had quit breathing. _Well why not? If it would make the man happy. _"I guess I can try."

"When you can. Now come on to bed."

Ten days down, thirty-two to go.

**A.N. Apron idea is from ****Ying-Fa-dono**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you reviewers: Esmy (Guest), DruidKitty, The Prince's Phoenix, TeamTHEFT, thedoctorsgirl42, Electryone, anon (Guest), Mini Nicka, Leafena, AlexandraBelleRose, Anonymous Nerd Girl, makaem, The Auburn Girl, Grace5231973, cheesyteal'c, juju0268 , Thalaba, Hermitess, and TcEm.**

_NEXT: a little smut, Waffle House, Mt. Mitchell, a very little more smut and a cold shower_


	11. Mt Mitchell

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**Mt. Mitchell**

000oo000oo000oo000

Next morning, Terrific Thursday in his mind, he awoke with his Belle nestled all soft and cuddly in his arms. He had begun to think of her as _his Belle. _

Oh but, she was still struggling to make eye contact with him. He'd had her strip for him last night. And that had turned out to be quite rewarding, finding out that she would comply with his little requests (he wondered just what her limits might be). She had been nervous and reluctant, but, and he was quickly able to determine once she had gotten into his bed and he had caressed her between her legs, she had also been quite aroused. She was oozing wetness, her curls glistening with her helpless response to his demands. It had taken him only a few minutes to gently, firmly push her up and into an orgasm.

Her first one of the night.

He had tried some other things with her, having her lay still on her back while he teased and tormented her nipples and the soft tissue at the juncture of her legs. He'd found her ear lobes seemed especially sensitive and he could gently take one and pull it into his mouth and use his tongue to stimulate it _much the same way that he would like to pull and tongue her hypersensitive clit, if she didn't get upset every time he started to take his head lower than her bellybutton. She'd accept his fingers down there and for now that was quite enough to keep her simmering. He could only imagine how delicious she would taste and was content to bide his time. _

Belle remembered herself clinging to the man, begging, crying, pleading. _Stop, don't stop, harder, not so hard, pleasepleasepleaseplease. _

Sometimes he would heed her cries, but. . .

Sometimes he would not.

Another time he had her lay on her stomach and he lay on top of her, his hands around her front, each cupping, squeezing a generous breast, and his legs between hers, his weight holding her in place while he gently rocked back and forth. He nibbled at her neck and shoulder. When he dropped one of his hands down the front of her body to mesh within her intimate folds, she began to shudder and move as if to throw him off. His weight stopped her movements and when she came, she screamed, her feelings all the more intensified by the restrictions he had put on her movements.

She could tell that he was quite aroused himself, the bulge in his boxers testifying to his interest. And it had happened early that morning. She had managed to drop her hand onto his hardened member, but he quickly pulled her hand away.

"I'm too close, Belle. I don't want to spill myself into your hand. I can wait."

"Can I see you?" _Where had that come from? Her friends talking about packages and hard times? _

He hesitated. It did seem only fair, given that he had seen, touched, licked just about her entire body. She just wanted to look at him.

"Don't touch," he warned her.

"Or what? You'll punish me?" she slowly dragged her finger down her lower lip and touched the tip of her finger with her tongue. _And where was that coming from?_

He held his breath a moment, gapping at her sensual gesture, then shook his head, clearing it a bit, "Be careful Belle, you're playing with fire, dearie." _What was she up to? _"Sit back," he ordered her, not quite trusting her in the mood she was in.

She gave him a lovely, slight smile, but did as he had asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He lifted his butt and slipped off his boxers. He didn't expect it, but he couldn't help but hear her gasp.

_Was she disappointed? Frightened? Amused?_ He tried to read her face.

"I. . ." she began softly, "I had always thought that a man's size was. . . proportional to his. . . size." She had not taken her eyes off his erect member. She paused, "I know I'm not much experienced, well, not really experienced at all, with just the one boyfriend. But he was a really big guy."

He listened patiently. _Where was she going with this?_

Belle was hesitating, "But you're bigger, a lot bigger than he was."

The corners of his mouth twitched and he gently told her, "Belle, my dear, you will never go wrong telling a man that you think his dick is big."

"Are you sure this will work?" she asked him, her blue eyes wide _with what? fear? arousal_?

He processed her question. "I can assure you that _this_," he gestured to himself, "works just fine. If you're asking if we'll work together, I can promise you that we'll work together very nicely." Again, he almost smiled.

She was still hesitant, "Well, it didn't work so good with my first boyfriend. He had trouble . . . well, he couldn't always get it in, like it wouldn't be firm enough and sometimes he would come before he could try to get in it."

Gold closed his eyes a moment. He felt sorry for this beautiful woman. Somehow this lout of a _boyfriend_ had made her doubt her charms. "Maybe the problem was that he was your 'boy' friend, Belle. I'm a grown man with some experience and I plan to be your lover. A very attentive, very satisfying lover. And very soon, I hope."

Belle looked away from his jutting shaft for the first time since he had revealed himself. There was a moment and she raised her eyes to his . . . "Saturday night," she told him. "Saturday night should be just fine." She didn't look at him again before stepping off the bed to go into the bathroom to grab a shower. She took a little longer than usual in the shower and he had to wonder if she was attending to the request he had made of her the previous evening.

:o

He walked with her out to the Lamborghini. They had a bit of drive in front of them and he wanted a comfortable ride, so the little Prius could just squat in the garage today. Belle had told him to take a jacket _in the July heat _and gave him a picnic basket to carry. He dutifully put the basket into the back seat.

"Where to for breakfast?" he asked her.

"Waffle House is always good," she had told him and quickly ascertained that he had never been to a Waffle House. "That's hard to believe, but I guess you've lived up north and they don't have Waffle Houses there."

"I don't know that I'm up for waffles," he told her.

"Oh, no problem. They have lotsa other things."

"What will I find to eat?" he had asked, knowing that with Belle it was always something foreign and exotic. He was not to be disappointed.

"Well, all kinds of regular breakfast food. Eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, you can even get a steak or pork chop with your breakfast. Of course they do have waffles, pretty good ones. And grits and they're famous for their hash browns. You can get them scattered, smothered, covered, capped, diced, chunked, peppered, topped, or country or any combination," she reeled off the options.

"What was that?" he hadn't followed her hash brown litany.

"You can get hash browns spread out on the grill with onions, cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, ham, jalapenos, chili or gravy. And you can get single, double or triple orders. And whatever combinations."

"You've eaten there before, I take it?" he asked.

"They're open 24/7. College kids spend a lot of time in Waffle Houses in the south.

"What hash brown is best?" he asked.

"That's a highly individualized choice, very personal," she counseled him. "I prefer them scattered and smothered. Emma likes them scattered, covered and capped. Try whatever. You won't go wrong," she advised him.

They pulled into one of the yellow-roofed trailer-sized restaurants.

They were able to find a seat and he ignored the stares they were getting. He guessed that men didn't often drive into a Waffle House in a Lamborghini accompanied by a woman as fine looking as his Belle. (He wasn't aware that he was garnering his own fair share of assessing, speculative once-over looks). Belle was quite aware of the other women checking him out (and probably a couple of the men). He seemed completely oblivious to their scrutiny. _The man was adorable and just couldn't help himself._

Once settled into the booth, he asked that they sit on the same side of the booth – he liked sitting close enough to her to feel her warm little body. He then looked around at the clientele. He leaned over to Belle, "I think I saw some of these people when Emma took me to the Walmart, except I think they were wearing their good pajamas there."

"Probably so," she assured him.

He then looked over the text-laden laminated menu. "I'm not sure what to get," he confessed to the waitress who had taken their orders for coffee and had called him "sugah." He told her that he had never been to a Waffle House and, although he had had hash brown potatoes, he had never had theirs. What would she suggest?

This precipitated a chorus of advice from other diners, all who advised him on the 'best' way to get hash browns. He listened to them all, and realized that he was going to risk offending these other patrons (some of whom looked as if they might be armed) if he didn't come up with a good compromise. He thanked everyone and shared that he was going to take his lady's suggestion of scattered and smothered. That seemed to mollify the crowd. Then, along with the hash browns, he ordered two scrambled eggs, toast, grits (which by now, he was afraid to mention he had never had before either) and (he glanced at his vegetarian seatmate) ham.

The meal was good. The grits were. . . interesting, in both taste and texture. The coffee was adequate (after Belle's magical concoction he had discovered that other people's coffee could be no better than adequate).

He paid cash, leaving a generous tip (they might come back one day). Once back in the car, Belle asked him, "What'd'ja think?"

"Good. Interesting. Now, two things. Don't I usually get a passionate kiss when we get back in the car after one of these little outings?"

"It's only been one time!" she protested.

"But I'm a fast learner," he informed her.

Belle laughed and leaned over and kissed him on the mouth

"Lovely, dear. The second thing, and I confess I was afraid to ask this in the restaurant, but what exactly are grits?" He had cranked up the car and they were back on the road.

"Oh, they're actually mined out of the ground. They're from a layer of organic matter from the carnivorous plants that used to grow wild all over the Carolinas and Georgia, that are still found in some isolated areas. The Native Americans found the raw substance in outcroppings and figured out how to grind up up, then boil and salt it for food. The original Europeans found the natives lapping what appeared to be sand from crude wooden bowls – that why South Carolinians are called 'sandlappers.' There are large mines all over the Carolinas, a really big one in Irmo, and some in Georgia now where we get the stuff."

Gold nodded, but had to question her. "They're like a rock?"

Belle stared at him, and started giggling. "They're ground corn, slow cooked and salted."

He took a deep breath and blew out, "Ok, that makes more sense."

"You were buying it! You were totally buying it!" she told him, laughing as they drove on up to one of the Blue Ridge Parkway entrances.

"I was. You're such a sweet girl. I didn't think you'd be leading me on like that," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, but that was way too easy," she sat, smugly smiling.

"Ok. So tell me about this road. It's a scenic highway?"

"Yep, build during the Great Depression as a public works project. It's an amazing road any time of the year. There are all kinds of pull-offs, some of them have hiking trails, some go back towards the Biltmore. Going in the other direction than we'll be going, there's Pisgah, you'll see Cold Mountain, and there's Looking Glass Knob, which is pretty impressive. It's this enormous, big, honking, great gigantic ball of granite. Further on you'll get to Graveyard Ridge and the Yellow River Falls, which is always crowded. And then there's the Black Balsam turnoff which takes you up to Sam Knob and the whole Shining Rock area, primo hiking and camping area. It's part of the Appalachian Trail. And then a bit further down the highway is the Devil's Courthouse and so on until you get the Cherokee reservation where the road ends."

"And going in the direction we'll be going?" he asked.

"Mainly a lot of look-offs. There's this one little town you can see that's very pretty in the fall. Then there's Craggy Gardens which is pretty interesting and then there's Mitchell. There's a bike race that starts in Spartanburg, South Carolina and comes up through Marion all the way to the top of Mt. Mitchell. It's considered one of the toughest in the world. That's back in May. I tell you, every time I go to Mitchell, it's different. I've been snowed in, sleeted in, iced in, fogged in, and rained in, bright, shiny sunshine in, everything."

They began the drive to Mount Mitchell.

They got into fog.

"How bad is it that there's fog?" he asked her.

"Well, it makes for white knuckle driving. And if the fog goes all the way up the mountain, it becomes a bust because you can't see anything. But if you get above the fog, it's fantastic. You'll feel like you're on an island, surrounded by a while ocean of clouds."

"How high do we get?"

"Don't know. I do know it's the highest mountain east of the Mississippi. They'll tell you the weather is what you'd find in Montreal, Canada. It has showed there every month of the year. I got in snow once in May."

Uncharacteristic for July, they did get into increasingly heavy fog and the drive was slowed to a painful twenty miles an hour. Gold understood why Belle had called it "white knuckle driving." He couldn't see fifty feet in front of him and the road was twisting and turning with drop-offs on one side or the other. They burst out above the fog at Craggy Gardens. They stopped at the rest area and the picture views were breath-taking. They had risen above the clouds and looking down on the lower black hills encased in white fluff and foam was one of the more incredible views he had ever seen. Up the long drive to Mount Mitchell and more of the same.

He hadn't expected it to be so cold and he was glad he'd taken Belle's advice to take a jacket. They parked and, holding hands, walked up the path to the tower on top of the mountain. The cool breeze caused Belle's face to flush and he'd never thought she'd look prettier.

"This is it," she told him. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it is," he responded, but he wasn't looking at the view.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0

They began the long drive down the mountain. He now realized why she had packed a picnic. There were no commercial establishments along the way. Nothing like a restaurant or even a gas station on the Parkway. They were able to pull off, find a table and eat their lunch enjoying the view and company. They were alone on the side of the road, sitting at a table they had found.

"Belle, this is a very nice day. The mountains remind me of some of the north country of Scotland."

"You aren't the first Scot to say that. Quite a few people in this area are descended from Scottish settlers. They have Highland games at several places like Grandfather Mountain and also down in Tryon," she told him.

"What, do they wear kilts, eat haggis and toss cabers?" he had to ask.

"You got it."

"I can pass all that up," he told her.

"Oh, now you wouldn't be up for wearing a kilt?"

"Don't have the legs for it," he told, settling the matter.

Belle was about to say something else, but he reached for her, "I want to kiss you, Belle," and he pulled her to him and began to leisurely kiss her on the mouth, urging her lips open. She found herself quickly slipping into a maelstrom of desire, eagerly kissing him back, wrapping her arms around him. Had she not already been sitting, she would have slumped to the ground, her knees giving out from under her. She realized she was holding onto him, her body limp in his arms.

He pulled back and regarded her. She was struggling, trying to pull herself into some semblance of functionality. She almost thought that he smiled. "Oh, yes" she heard him say. "We're going to work together very nicely."

00oo000ooo000OOO000ooo000oo0 0

She had him come back down the mountain on 80 then onto 70. They found a little family owned pizza place and got supper. He had been questioning her about her college experiences, so she asked him if he had gone to college. He told her he had put himself through the University of Glasgow, getting a degree in business. It had taken him six years but he had graduated with highest honors. He had bought his first building during his last year in school and things had begun to turn around for him.

"How many buildings do you own now?" she asked innocently enough.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He told her that although real estate was the backbone of his business and his fortune, he had long since diversified. There were electronics, media, various technology, transportation, many more things.

She was looking at him in wonderment. "Just how rich are you?"

"Not rich enough," he admitted. "There's one more sweet little deal I want to close in on before I consider stepping back a bit, maybe letting my son take over more of the business, maybe selling off parts of it. I'm dealing with a couple of killing corporations who want in on the same sweet deal. Plus I still seem to have leftovers from my divorce coming back to haunt me. The money both seems to help and hurt. You, my dear," he reached out and held her hand, "are yet another complication."

This last bit bothered her. She didn't want to cause any grief to this man. He squeezed her hand. "I came to Asheville to relax. As I think you've guessed, I'd had a bit of a breakdown. I was using drugs and alcohol instead of dealing with my problems. I had a choice of taking a vacation or going into some type of rehab. I opted for the vacation. Then, I met you. Another problem – a pleasant one, mind you, but another problem, nonetheless."

"How am I a problem?" she asked, concerned. "I thought we were having a good time together?"

"We are and. . . we will. But I seem to be developing feelings for you, Belle. An older man, a younger woman. That's just the tip of it. There's the money thing. The remnants of my divorce. Ah hell," he let her hand go. He took a deep breath, "It's the feelings thing, Belle. I don't want to have feelings for you, but I do. I think you're one of the best things that's ever happened to me, but I," he stopped a moment, swallowed and finally added, "I don't think I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Belle sat opened-mouth while he went and paid the tab. He held out his hand to her when he went by the table and she rose to go out with him.

Belle thought that he had put himself into a strange mood on the remainder of the trip. He was quiet and seemed angry. She didn't know if she had offended him, maybe she had asked too many personal questions. Maybe he was embarrassed by his confession of having feelings for her.

It was late, after eleven, when they returned to the apartment building. He led her back to his apartment and helped her water the plants. Checked his cigarette pack - five left.

Once they came back in from the roof garden, he didn't speak to her. He turned her around to face him and began to remove her clothes, pulling off her top, her bra, her skirt and panties. He was rough and insistent, kissing her until she was gasping for breath, dragging her back to the bedroom, pushing her down onto the bed and nearly falling on top of her. She opened her legs to him and he nestled between them with only his jeans acting as a barrier. She could feel the impressive length and breadth of the man, rubbing up against her. He had her pinioned beneath him. He moved against her for more than a minute, stimulating them both.

. . .

Then, as if he realized what was happening, he rolled off of her and sat up, breathing deeply.

"I'm going to get a cold shower," he told her and left her panting on the bed.

_What was she going to do?_ _She was so seriously attracted to him. Really, really attracted to the man. And she had her own feelings she was dealing with. She lay there, remembering how his body had felt against hers. Hard and strong. Lying between her legs, his hands holding her in place while he ravished her willing body, kissing her into a passionate frenzy. _

Gold stood in the shower, letting the cold water cool his body. He was pissed at himself, letting himself get carried away. She had given in to him, but hell, what had he expected? She was just barely not-a-virgin with her former couldn't-get-it-up-premature-ejaculating boyfriend. She was terrified of him but, and he knew this very well, she was also fascinated by him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She could no more tell him, 'no,' than she could quit breathing.

_But he was fascinated by her too. She was so sweet, so giving, so trusting, so. . .everything he wasn't. . .everything every other woman in his life had never been. _

_And how far did he want to go with her thinking he was 'Mr. Cash'? He didn't want her to find out later who, what he was. He needed to come clean. Maybe before the first time._

He toweled himself dry and put on some clean boxers. He considered sleeping in the Ekornes or on his sofa, to give them both a break. He considered it.

For a heartbeat.

Belle felt the bed shift and his hard body slipped in next to hers. His arms wrapped around her and his lips traced a moist pattern down the side of her neck. He trapped both of her wrists in one hand and held her in place. She struggled briefly against him but stopped herself and then softened. He felt her capitulation.

_He could go ahead and have her now. He could easily remove the small cotton barrier that lay within her and take her. It would be easy. She would let him. They both knew he could do anything he wanted with her. _

Day Eleven down, thirty-one more to go.

Ooo-ooo—ooo—ooo-ooO

**A.N. thx to all those new followers and favoriters and especially to my insightful reviewers. I broke 200 reviews with chapter ten - I'm absurdly easy to please, this number makes me wet myself – in a good way. Thanks to: Tinuviel Undomiel, The Prince's Phoenix, TeamTHEFT, cheesyteal'c, Anonymous Nerd Girl, Mini Nicka, AlexandraBelleRose, juju0268, makaem, and Hermitess**

**Special thanks to new reviewers: Just 2 Dream. EndlessDream91, Daseki no Kama, and Lattelady**

**And to Esmy (Guest) (Belle will take a more aggressive/assertive role with Gold in the future – but it's a ways off for her – there's ice cream involved). **

**And to Leafena who keeps giving me amazing ideas for the direction of some of the details of this story. **

_NEXT: Gold gets his video games connected_

_A visitor drops in to see Gold_

_Friday night phone call from Bae. _


	12. Phone Calls

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 12**

**Phone Calls**

He was in a strange mood. He seemed angry. She didn't know why, couldn't know why. He had been forceful with her but, she acknowledged, he had not hurt her.

She submitted to his every whim during the remainder of the night. She'd had no choice. He'd given her no choice.

In his anger, he had treated her in a hard uncompromising manner, as if by doing so, he would be able to dominate her and take himself out from under her spell. As if, he was the one in thrall to her and by controlling her, he could break her hold.

He wouldn't let her kiss him, although he had kissed her, much like he had that first time, establishing his mastery over her. And he wouldn't let her touch him. He controlled her body, tightly and with an absolute focus. Ignoring her protests, he had quickly tied her hands together with one of his silk ties and fastened them to the headboard. His fingers, his hand between her legs, had ascertained that she had indeed shaved her intimate area. He was pleased with this and whispered to her that he would reward her compliance. She wasn't sure if he was threatening her or promising her. He then set about caressing her into repeated rounds of submission. His fingers found and explored her very core, her most sensitive, essential feminine core. She was wet, very wet, which made it easy for him to rub and stimulate her, his fingers delving into her folds, trapping her clit between his unrelenting fingers. She gasped the first time she had exploded under his demanding attentions, but within a half hour he'd had her screaming, at first begging him for release and then begging him to stop, stop, it was too intense, that she couldn't. . .not again. . .not so soon. He ignored her and she had been helpless to resist. . .she'd had no idea she was capable of responding as he was forcing her to. . . repeatedly forcing her to.

She had yielded all to him, crying out his name, crying, crying for mercy. But he'd shown her no mercy as if he were angry with her, angry with himself for caring for her.

When her body had calmed somewhat, he began again, this time more gently, but still resolved and determined. He took her on a roller coaster ride until she came undone for him one more time.

_She was shivering, quaking, her psyche shattered. And she had agreed to have actual for real and for true sex with this man in less than twenty-four hours?_

_What had she been thinking?_

_Good lord, would she be able to survive anything more intense than what he had just subjected her to?_

It probably was about three in the morning when he untied her hands and allowed her to wrap herself around him while he stroked her hair and told her how pleased and delighted he was with her. At six, he allowed her to stumble out of bed to get a quick shower.

He made himself scarce while she dressed and watered the plants before leaving out for her shop.

He quietly considered his actions of the night before.

_There had been another night like this in his past, one with full penetration and total dominance. It had started when _she_ had been furious with him (for what he had no idea) and had begun throwing things at him. He had begun only with the idea of protecting himself, had grabbed the woman and forced her to the floor. But this had been his wife and her full body writhing beneath his had awakened something much older within himself, the desire to take, to dominate, to exercise his rights. It was the night Bae was conceived._

In the light of this present morning, he realized what he had done. He accepted that he had been rather forceful with the girl. He recognized that he had been less than kind with his beauteous Belle during the night. Hell, he had been brutal with the woman.

He was hesitant to go down to get his coffee.

_What the hell had possessed him? To take a nice girl like Belle and treat her like a paid slut. _

_Worse than he might a paid slut._

_And she hadn't been faking her response. _

_Her responses._

_He really needed to apologize. _

Milah had taught him to apologize with expensive jewelry, but he wasn't sure how Belle would respond to something like that. A nice new dress? How about new underwear? The woman looked like she shopped for her undergarments at Walmart; they did the job that they were supposed to and she made them look good _she would make a burlap sack look good. _But they should have been made of lace and silk.

No, he decided, sexy underwear delivered after a night of debauchery might send the wrong message.

Flowers?

He made a call.

He dressed and made his way down stairs.

0o00oo000ooo000oo00o0

Belle was actually smiling when he showed up. She made eye contact (which was hard for him to do with her) and handed him his coffee. She moved in closer (just like any other day) and she bestowed a gentle kiss on his lips.

_Well, this wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. He'd thought she'd be royally pissed at having been treated like a strumpet. _

"Are you all right?" he asked her in a whisper.

She seemed genuinely surprised. "Of course. Shouldn't I be?"

Now he was surprised. He stammered, "No. . .no reason. Just glad to know you're doing fine."

She dropped an apricot and cream cheese scone on him. And another smile.

He watched her closely. She didn't seem angry. Didn't seem upset. _Didn't seem violated_. He noted Ruby's apron with penguins eating ice cream cones. He petted the cat. He left his twenty. He did his walk. He went back to his apartment and changed for his class. He attended his class.

0000oooo000ooo00oo0o0oo00ooo 000oooo0000

Now it was time for a banana, cherry and grape smoothie.

He had barely gotten back to his apartment, hadn't even changed when there was a knock on the door. He was in the midst of fixing his new smoothie flavor.

He was expecting this visitor.

"Leroy," he greeted the computer whiz with almost affection.

"You called me to fly down here from Boston. What up?"

"Three things," he told Leroy. "I bought some game systems and can't get them hooked up without having to plug them in and out."

"You could've hired some fourteen year old boy to help you with that," Leroy replied gruffly.

"I've also got some pictures that may be of a . . . delicate nature that I need some help downloading."

"And?"

"Wanted to see how the negotiations were going," Gold finished up.

Leroy walked into his living room. He looked at the TV and the gaming systems. "OK you're going to need a switching station for these games. I'll run out and get one. Now" he turned back to Gold. "Where are these pictures?"

Gold handed him the camera card.

Leroy sat in front of Gold's computer, inserted and began downloading the pictures from the SD card. Gold looked over his shoulder.

"Wow! She's gorgeous. You know her?" Leroy asked as pictures of Belle began to pop up. Then there was a picture of Gold kissing her. A reasonably chaste picture, taken in the bookstore coffee shop. But he was kissing her.

Leroy cleared his throat. "Well, I guess that answers that question."

There were more pictures. Some of them together on the rooftop garden (taken with a telescoping lens, no doubt). Many of them were him talking with Belle with her giving him one of her brilliant smiles. There was one particular one. He was watching her walk away – it was an excellent picture, capturing his interests in the girl, his longing showing on his face. And there was one other, with Belle looking over at him while he read a book in her store, a similar longing showing clearly on her expressive face.

Damn. Who were these for? Why were they being followed and photographed? The divorce was over. He was allowed to go out and date, even a much younger woman.

"Uh, Mr. Gold. These pictures don't look that bad. I mean it looks like you're hitting on a younger woman but it looks like she's ok with it. But nothing nasty or inappropriate here." The gruff computer engineer observed, "They're kinda sweet," he added.

Gold had always suspected the brusque computer engineer of being a softie, a romantic at heart. He responded, "I would agree, Leroy. But I don't like people sneaking around and taking pictures of me."

"Yeah, it looks like they were looking for something," Leroy surmised.

"Yeah. Can you print those out for me?"

"Do you want like a proof sheet or separate glossies of each one?"

"A proof sheet, I guess." He looked at the pictures again. "And a big glossy of this one," he indicated the picture that had Belle looking over at him while he read. He liked that one.

"OK," Leroy stood. "Anything else before I head out to get the stuff I'll need?"

"Negotiations. How are they going?"

"I'm on your side, you know that. But it's hard to get seven guys to agree on anything," Leroy considered. "It's the jump into something that's not a sure thing, you know. Hart and Blue are offering us a sure thing. But you're telling us we could be billionaires if we take a chance."

"I'm offering a partnership. I'll get you off the ground. I'll fund your research, help you with product preparation, with marketing. Anyone who doesn't want to take a share and proceeds from future profits, well, I'm willing to double what Hart or Blue are offering and have them bow out, take no risks, but take no future profits. With Dark Castle there's no way for them to lose."

"Hey, you've already convinced me. I'm working on the others. Some of them seem to think that you're some kind of evil magician who's out to trick us with a fancy deal that will end with us getting the shaft."

"I get that a lot," Gold told him. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to sweeten the pot."

Leroy laughed, "How about Blue's sexy little receptionist's phone number. She's the perky brunette who manages the front office. Astrid's her name." Leroy sounded casual, as if he was not serious.

"How about lunch?" Gold made a counter-offer.

"In this town? Can I get anything besides bean sprouts and tofu? Nah, I'm going to hit the road in that rental car you got for me, find a hamburger place and a Best Buy and get back here to fix you up."

Gold nodded and took out his phone contacts _yes, he'd made a note of the address_, "Here's an address of a great burger place, Grill 51. I was there about a week ago and can recommend it." He wrote it down for Leroy.

"Thanks, Gold." Leroy picked it up and was about to go out the door.

"Oh Leroy, if you see me around that pretty girl from the pictures, she doesn't know me as 'Gold.' I'm 'Cash' to her."

"You're kidding?!"

"Long story. Just please remember."

"Sure thing, Mr. Cash." Leroy was shaking his head as he headed out.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Once Leroy had left, Gold made a call.

Well then, he had to get lunch for himself. He was about to head out with the notion of also picking up something for Belle, Ruby and Ashley when a phone call came in.

Not the callback he was expecting.

"Roses?" was all she said.

"I thought you'd like them," he answered.

"They're beautiful. But so many? Did you do something that I don't know about and this is how you apologize?"

"I didn't do anything that you don't know about," he told her _well nothing directly impacting on her._ "I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you," he hesitated and then, tentatively, cautiously, he used the words he had used with her last night, "I am pleased, delighted with you."

There was silence on the other end.

And finally she spoke.

"Oh."

More silence before she spoke again.

"I had fun too. Thank you."

And then she hung up.

_Shit! She had liked what he'd done! Being restrained and reduced to a pulsating mass of feminine epithelium! She'd had liked it!_

_Hell, he had liked it, too._

_Good thing there hadn't been a photographer around for those moments._

O0oo00o0o0o00oo0O

He'd changed from his yoga clothes and gone out to get lunch at the Jerusalem Garden Café, a salmon wrap for himself and falafel wraps for Belle, Ruby and Ashley. He picked up a vegetarian platter with hummus, baba ghanoush, tahini salad, tabouleh, olives, falafel, and stuffed grape leaves for everyone to share.

When he walked back to the bookstore he was a little surprised. Three dozen roses did take up a lot of space. Belle had put a batch by the register, had put one in the coffee shop and set the other one at 'his' table. The roses he'd selected were white with red stains he'd thought red roses might be too much and this was a compromise.

He couldn't help but look around. No obvious photographers. He gave Belle a kiss and left the lunches with her.

"Going to have a friend helping me with the game hook-up," he told her truthfully. He returned to his apartment.

On the way back up to his apartment the phone call he was expecting came in. He got back into his apartment and wrote down the information.

He was there now waiting for Leroy when there was a knock on the door out to the rooftop garden. It was Peter Banning.

He opened the door.

"Sir," the young man greeted him.

"Very good," Gold told him, motioning him to come in. "I had wanted to pass on a bonus to your crew for doing such a fine job taking care of that photographer." He suddenly thought._ The fire escape did not go all the way down to the ground. __How did the kid get up to the rooftop garden? _He asked, "How did you get up here?"

The young man shrugged, "I flew up," he said without further explanation.

Gold looked at him a long moment, then he shrugged. He reached for his wallet. "You did an excellent job," he extended his hand with ten twenties in it. Peter did not reach out to take it.

"Problem?" Gold asked him.

The young man was hesitant, "I know Emma vouched for you and all, sir, but I still like to check people out myself. You understand?"

Gold was impressed. "I do. . . and I approve. What do you want to know?"

"Do you know why that man was following you and taking pictures?"

"No. I don't." Gold walked over to his computer. The camera pictures were still up. "This is what he found."

Peter sat down and scanned through the pictures. "Looks like he was getting pictures of you and Miss Belle," he stated the obvious. "And you don't know why?"

"No. I went through a messy divorce awhile back, but that's done and done. I have a couple of business deals in the works but this type of picture isn't going to impact on how those come out."

"You're Robert Spinner, aren't you?"

Gold stood absolutely still. "Yes," he admitted, _how the hell did this kid know this? _"But most of the people here don't know that and I prefer to keep it that way."

"Not a problem. I think Emma knows," the young man told him.

"I am curious. How did you know?"

"My girlfriend, Wendy. She's really smart and remembers everything. She remembered seeing your picture on the cover of People a couple of months ago. She said she'd thought you were kinda hot. . . for an older guy, you know, and she had read the article. When she saw you in town, she recognized you right away and told me about you. Nobody else, even the other guys who work with me, know who you are."

"Thanks. I would like you to keep it that way."

"Sure," agreed the young man. "As long as I think you're on the up and up, I'll sit on your secret." The young man hesitated.

Gold waited.

"I like Miss Belle," Peter told him. "She's taken care of some of my boys. She's a good person."

"Yes, she is," Gold readily agreed. "I don't want her hurt either. That's one of the reasons I'm concerned about this photographer and any others that might be lurking around."

"All right," replied Peter. "Sounds good. We'll continue to keep a look-out." He nodded and held out his hand, this time taking the money. He went back out to the roofgarden. Gold was surprised when he didn't see him disappear over the edge of the roof but instead, the boy went up the side of the building and onto the roof of the building.

_Damn._

00000ooooo00000

Leroy was in and out in short order, hooking up the other games. He showed Gold how to switch from one game to another. Gold invited him to linger and play a competitive game, but Leroy shook his head.

"Wouldn't be fair, sir," he told Gold.

"You think you'd beat me?" Gold asked him.

"Oh! hell no! I've seen you doing business dealings. I wouldn't go up against you pulling a wishbone," Leroy told him earnestly. "Anything else before I catch a plane and head back to Boston?"

"Yes, there's this," Gold handed him the note he had written earlier.

"What is this?" Leroy recognized it as a phone number.

"The private cell phone number of one Astrid Nova, the 'sexy, little perky brunette' office manager at Blue."

"Fuck a duck!" Leroy was impressed. "You think it'd be all right if I called her?"

"I believe she's expecting your call. Good luck," Gold told him, walking him to the door.

"Any time you need me Mr. Go. . . Mr. Cash. I'm happy to come on down."

Gold spent some time messing around with the video games. Another call came in.

This one was welcome news. The part for the elevator had actually made it in. The elevator should be fixed sometime next week, maybe by next Wednesday.

0

Belle came up the stairs carrying two dozen of the three dozen roses with her.

"How would you feel if I brought my cats up here?" she asked him. "I worry about them being left alone too long."

"They're cats. I thought you had them in the shop," he responded without committing to anything.

"I can get Darwin to go, but not Susie. She's too shy. Darwin is beginning to do better around people, but he still doesn't trust anyone, except me and, maybe, you."

"That's the black one, right?"

"You know it is," she scolded him lightly.

"Will they climb curtains? Shed? Bite people on the face as they sleep? Poop on my carpet?

"No, yes, no and no," Belle answered him, counting off his questions.

"Bring 'em up," he told her.

"Thank you, you're a dear," she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "What's for supper?"

Gold looked over at the two meals that Jefferson had sent up. "Vegan shepherd's pie with TVP and veggies served with a salad. You want my salad?" he'd asked her.

"It won't kill you to eat something green," she told him.

"But why take the risk?" He stood a moment as if there was something else on his mind.

"Yes?" she gave him an opening.

"I am expecting a call from my son at 8 o'clock. Uhmmmm. . . " he didn't finish.

"You want some privacy?" she asked.

"Belle, you know I'm here incognito. I don't want anyone to know who I am. It's difficult to explain."

"I've always assumed you were some company's accountant and absconded with a huge amount of ill-gotten embezzled funds and you were hiding out with us. Or you won the lottery and didn't want to be pestered. Or you're one of those horrible internet thieves who hijack company's data and make them pay outrageous amounts to unlock them. Or. . . "

He held up his hand and stopped her. "Actually any one of those might be preferable to the truth. Belle I have a lot of money, probably more than you think I have. Probably a lot more. Legitimately obtained, I would emphasize. I went through a contentious, nasty, very public divorce and I just got to the point that I wanted everything to go away. I started mixing amphetamines with pain medication and washing them all down with alcohol."

"Good lord, any combination of two of those could have killed you!" she was astonished and concerned.

"That's what my doctor and my son told me. Uhm. . . what tipped the scales was when I took out my Glock and began taking pot shots at things around the house and grounds, not people mind you, but they were afraid I just might. They said I had to take a vacation with nursing supervision to make sure I'm not still using or do the rehab route. I chose the vacation. But I am still wound pretty tight. And I don't want people to know who I am."

"Even me?" she asked.

"I want so much to tell you, but . . . I. . .I. . . I'm afraid. You might not want to be with me if you find out who I am. You might think I'm more trouble than I'm worth. There's some bad press out there about me, really bad press. I've been described as a monster, a devil, a beast."

Belle smiled at him. "I don't see how finding out who you really are would make me want to . . . not see you anymore. But," she shrugged, "if you aren't ready, you're not ready. And, I can tell you want to talk to your son in private. I can sit outside if that's all right."

"Belle, you're a princess. The call will only be about twenty minutes. We just try to stay in touch with each other like this."

00000000oooo00000000

Belle was already outside fussing with the plants on the rooftop garden when the call came through.

"Dad," the sound of his son's voice always buoyed him.

"Bae," he answered.

"Dad, you look great. I've been getting the health reports. Hopper is really pleased. Are you growing a beard?"

"Maybe. It helps me fit in here, a lot less corporate looking. And the ladies all seem to approve."

"Great going there, Dad. And, are you wearing a tee-shirt?"

"Yeah, some of my lady friends have got me into a more casual look. Again, it helps me fit in."

"OK dad. You do look more relaxed." Bae was hesitant before he shared the next piece of information, "News may be leaking out about Cricket, Dad. The stock is already started to go up. We pushed nearly five million last week, most of it related to that particular stock. It's starting to heat up."

"What are you hearing?"

"That Dark Castle is going to support the research and marketing. That the cell phone alone will blow everything else off the market. The car industry is already calling us about getting in early with some prototypes – they want to cut us a deal. We think Blue is ready to bail; they can't compete with us. Hart, well that's another proposition but they are starting to falter. Cora has actually been calling me, trying to find out where you were."

"She could ask her daughter, Regina's already dropped by."

"Yeah, but those two aren't speaking to each other, so it's our gain."

"Bae, you haven't sent anyone down here to watch over me, have you?"

"No one besides the nurse whose been checking on you. Dad, has there been a problem?"

"Just caught a photographer taking snap shots of me and Milah mentioned that I was in a southern town, dressing down and growing a beard. Someone had to have told her about it. Regina had dropped by early on but she came by before I started 'fitting in.'"

"Mom always has schemes going, Dad. You know how she is."

"Better than anyone. I just don't want my lady friend dragged into anything."

"Speaking of your lady friend, how is that going?"

"Excellently. Maybe too well. I'm getting feelings. I'm trying to sort things out. If it's rebound or something real. It sure as hell feels real."

"Dad, you deserve some happiness. Stop thinking so much. Just go with the feelings. What have you always told me? If it's meant to be, it will be. Everything happens . . "

Gold finished, "for a purpose. Yeah. I guess I am overthinking things. It's just. . . I think I'm feeling happy. It's been so long since I felt like this . . . happy, I mean. I remember when you were born, I felt like this."

"I'm glad to hear it dad You deserve it."

"Thanks, Bae. I miss you, son. And I love you."

"Love you too, dad."

They hung up. Gold sat a moment. Now would probably be a good time to 'fess up to Belle just who he was. But what if it messed up everything? What if she wouldn't want him anymore when she found out who he was? What if? What if?

He checked his cigarettes. Still five left over. Well, at least he wasn't slipping.

He went on out to the rooftop to get Belle. He was through day twelve, thirty days to go.

**Thank you, thank you, thank you : Anonymous Nerd Girl, cheesyteal'c, The Prince's Phoenix, The Auburn Girl, TeamTHEFT, Lattelady, Hermitess, Leafena, AlexandraBelleRose, Grace5231973, Love Unrefined, thedoctorsgirl42 , Daseki no Kama, Esmy (Guest), TcEm(twice) and DruidKitty**

_Next Mary Margaret's shop_

_Grocery shopping with Emma_

_Gold and Belle – one last interruption (oh no!)_


	13. Telling

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Telling**

He'd managed to make it through the night without tying the woman up, but he hadn't been able to keep his hands off of her. Of course, a good part of that was her own fault. She would wrap herself around him, draping a shapely leg and a well-toned arm over him while she was in her sleep, her soft, pliable body molding to his. He'd opted just to hold her close to himself throughout the night rather than pushing her limits. . . again.

But when he awakened, at bit after five, and found he was alone in the bed, he panicked. _Maybe she'd thought about it and decided that he'd overstepped boundaries Thursday night, maybe he should've allowed her to meet Bae, maybe she was tired of him pawing her at every opportunity. _He grabbed a pair of yoga pants and went searching for her.

He found her, sitting outside in the roof garden with both cats. She was watching the sun come up. It was still dark and the no rays had peaked over the horizon, but the sky was lightening. She was drinking water with a slice of lemon. A yellow and white cat that he had never seen before was in her lap. The black cat was sitting by her chair.

He went to the door of the garden and opened it. He knew she knew he was there.

"Do you know most people have never watched the sun come up?" she asked him.

He went out and sat in the chair next to her. The black cat came over to him. The other cat watched him warily.

"It takes awhile and most people don't give it the time it requires from start to finish. It'll be another hour and a half before the first rays are over the horizon."

He sat quietly next to her.

He finally said, "I was afraid that you'd taken your cats and moved back to your apartment."

She nodded. "Do you want me to?" she asked.

"Oh god, no," he told her quickly. He paused before speaking again, "Belle, I need your help, if you want to give it to me."

She sat quietly petting the cat.

He took a deep breath and dove in. "Belle, my name is Robert Spinner. It's possible you've heard of me. I made the top twenty in the last Forbes count of the four hundred richest in America. I may be in the top ten by now. I don't know."

Belle continued to sit quietly.

"There's a lot of stuff written about me. I own a company called Rumpelstiltskin Extraordinary Enterprises, or Rumee for short. I took the name when, after a couple of major deals, there was a write-up about me in the British press, about how I took run-down, slum buildings, bought them, fixed them up and created affordable housing. They called me 'Mr. Gold' and said I was taking houses of straw and spinning them into houses of gold. I liked the analogy and adopted it. And the moniker stuck."

He sat another moment. Belle hadn't moved except to pet the cat.

"I then began to make a lot of business deals. I began to buy out underwater businesses, failing companies, factories about to go under. The bad press started then. The press focused on me closing these companies, these factories and putting people out of work. I got called a lot of names, the Beast of Bremen, the Monster of Morrowland, my reviewers seem to prefer alliterative names. I've been called a devil, an imp, a goblin, other names I'd prefer not to say in front of a lady."

Belle looked over at him, waiting.

"That part about me closing the places down was true. I did close down many of these places. I did put hundreds, perhaps thousands, maybe many thousands, of people out of work. But what they didn't say was that I rebuilt or replaced these companies. For every job I took, I replaced it with two, in some places three. I gave people health insurance, retirement packages, I donated to local public schools, public libraries, all kinds of charities."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "But it was never enough for some people because I had taken that first job. I'm not well liked. I'm not completely trusted."

"And Milah?" Belle asked him.

_So she had recognized his name._ "I wish, I wish I could tell you that everything was her fault. That she was an uncompromising crazy bitch, which she was. But what she would say about me, that I was a controlling, arrogant bastard, probably as crazy as she was, well, that's probably true too."

"And are you still a controlling, arrogant, crazy bastard?" Belle asked him softly.

"I'm afraid so. I got angry with you Thursday night and I treated you like I would have treated Milah."

"Why were you angry?" Belle knew he had been angry but had no idea why.

"Because I am having feelings for you and if I had learned nothing else in my life, it's that feelings are a weakness. I was angry at myself and at you for creating these feelings. I guess, I was trying to make you see what a monster I really am, so you would leave me."

"So then you sent me an abundance of flowers to apologize?"

He smiled ruefully, "I guess I was afraid you might leave me. I felt bad about what I had done. I was expecting you to act like Milah would have done and she would have expected a diamond bracelet after a night like that. I didn't think you were the diamond bracelet type, so I settled on flowers."

Belle stopped petting the cat and sat for a moment watching the skyline.

"I've never been with a man who could give me multiple orgasms," she stated flatly. "I like it, but I think I would like it better if you were . . . not so. . . intense, like you're in a contest. I don't know a lot about successful relationships. I got out of the relationship business when I was still in high school. I concentrated on schooling, my business and my friendships. I've never been in love," she confessed. "But I think that love has to be fed and nurtured and encouraged to stay strong."

Gold closed his eyes. "Is there any hope for us, for me, Belle?" He stood up. "If you want to take your cats and go, I will understand. I won't take any petty revenge, like raising the rent on you and your friends or anything like that. Hell, I'd consider giving you the building, rent free – I'd continue paying the taxes and such," he looked at her face. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? Using money to buy my way out?"

Belle gave him her slight smile. "When did you have a better time with me? When we went to Biltmore or Mount Mitchell?"

"Oh, that's easy. Mount Mitchell, I really liked the picnic." he answered, not sure where she was going with this.

"Which cost the least?" she asked him.

He winced and nodded "Mount Mitchell."

Belle lifted the cat off her lap and stood, coming over to him. "It's not that I object to the money. I'm not stupid. Your money, what you can do with that, is amazing. But you don't have to spend money for us to have a good time together. You don't have to spend money for my friends to like you, for anyone to like you. And," she added glancing over at him, "You don't have to give me an orgasm for me to have a great time with you."

He nodded, "My son told me to stop over-thinking everything and go with my feelings. That's hard for me to do. Belle," he closed his eyes. "Belle, I'm falling in love with you. I've tried not to let it happen. I've tried to tell myself that you were just another pretty bauble that I had picked up along the way, but I don't think so. And I can't bear to think that I could do to you what I did with Milah. I don't want to repeat the mistakes I made with my first wife."

Belle leaned in and gently kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad to hear you're falling in love with me. I just told you that I have never been in love before. I didn't know if it would ever happen, and if it did, if it would be fast or slow." She turned him so he looked her in the eyes, "It's been a bit of both, me falling in love with you. I felt something for you from the first moment I saw you and every moment I'm with you, I feel more. Even when you scare me, and you're pretty scary sometimes, I feel something growing every day. You know, there is something very dark inside of you that seems to take you over sometime, but there is also a decent human being in there. It's been very nice talking to him this morning, Mr. Spinner."

She went on into the apartment, leaving him with the cats.

He took a moment and followed her. "So are we ok?"

"For the moment. Listen to me if I tell you 'no.' And just talk to me more, about what you're feeling, what you want to do, why you're doing it."

He looked at her, so much wiser than he was, than he would ever be. "I want to kiss the hem of your Asheville skirt, Belle," he told her.

He waited for her to grab her shower. He was now sitting with the cats out on the roofgarden watching the sun come up. It had not quite made it over the horizon when he heard her moving around in the apartment. _He hoped she realized that he was still probably going to screw things up from time to time. It seemed to be his nature. _

She came out the garden to let him know she was about to go down to her store. "Belle, I was going to try to do this behind your back, but I thought, while I was confessing some of my sins, that I would go ahead and tell you."

She braced herself.

"I want to go out and buy some other kinds of food. What you would probably call junk food. . . and maybe, some meat. Not a lot. Some"

She shook her head and smiled at him. "Bobby. I'm not your mother. You're a grown man. You have a lifetime of preferences behind you. I'm not asking you to change. I'm certainly not judging you. I won't get offended if you want to eat meat. You don't have to act like you're ashamed or think I'm going to get mad at you."

"Then it's ok? I can get Emma's help, she took me to Walmart before. I need some help doing this and you're working all day."

"I think I can trust you and Emma together, if you two can promise not to hurt each other."

"I can't speak for Emma, but I will try to be good."

Belle nodded at him and was about to leave to go downstairs when he grabbed her and kissed her one more time, the very real, not really gone very far away, very dominate Mr. Cash, er. . . Mr. Gold reappearing to re-assert himself.

"Tonight," he whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver.

Belle sucked in her breathe. Wow, there was a lot that had come out this morning. She wanted this man so much but she was still concerned. He had been able to be honest with her, but she had not been so honest with him. She was still afraid that she would disappoint him (and on one level she knew she was re-living her rotten high school affair). He seemed to know what to do to give her pleasure but she didn't think she would be nearly as adept at pleasing him. He'd said she pleased him, delighted him, in fact, but she didn't feel she had done anything, that he'd allowed her to do anything. She managed to give him a smile and a nod.

He seemed reluctant to let her go, or was it that she was reluctant to leave him?

She leaned into him a moment before finally breaking it off and leaving him to go to her store.

Ooo00oo00oo00ooO

"You seem rather happy this morning," Ruby had said to him. She was sporting an apron covered with kittens with over-sized mournful eyes _gave Gold the creeps. _

He did feel at peace this morning. He had carried the black cat down to the store himself this morning and he let the animal go once he'd sat down. He accepted his coffee and a black cherry scone from the pretty barista. "Where's Belle?" he asked.

"Got in a shipment yesterday. She's in the backroom getting things unpacked and shelf-ready," Ruby told him.

"Sounds like she's busy," he commented. The store was her livelihood. He had to respect that. He was bit curious about the backroom. He knew Ashley had one of the backrooms and there were the customer toilets but he didn't know all that much about the behind scene areas of the store.

He ate his scone and went for his morning walk. He knew Archie would be pleased with the state of his knee. Much less pain since he had started the regular long walks (and the yoga). He was able to pop one tramadol in the morning and typically took one in the early afternoon and his last one in the evening. Good lord, he was actually following the prescription guidelines. Not bad. He hadn't got a lunch recommendation from Belle today so he felt left to his own devices. He knew that his devices weren't particularly good ones. He wandered into Mary Margaret's store, Pins and Needles. It was a yarn shop but there was more.

"Hello, Mr. Cash," Mary Margaret called to him. She sat in the center of the store with a very large, very white, very fluffy _thing _in her lap. She was combing the humongous. . . _thing_. She lifted it up and deposited the _thing _on the floor. The _thing _remained still and then somehow it began hopping off. Ohhhh, it was a rabbit. _How big was the damn thing? _

"This is Pepper, my angora bunny. Just combing him out for his fur. It takes forever, but I've got several balls of yarn off of him. Working on a baby blanket."

"Oh, are you. . . ?" he had not suspected anything like this.

"Not yet, but we've decided to go for it. James and I got married nearly a year ago and we've decided that we are quite ready to start a family. I know, I need to stop drinking at Girls' Night In," she brought it up before he had even thought of it.

"Hope that goes well for you," he told her. He began to look around the store. Things were put together by color for the most part, but there were some special sections that featured specific yarns. There was a wall of, he guessed, needlework tools. And a spinning wheel. _Interesting._ He walked over to it.

Mary Margaret was watching him. "You ever spin before?" she asked him.

"I don't know. It looks vaguely familiar." He looked up at her, "Maybe in another life," he said as a quip.

"Maybe," she wasn't jesting. "Take a seat. I've got some of Pepper's fur in a basket. It's already been washed and combed."

She came over to him, "Usually we start beginners on a drop spindle. The skills transfer easily. This has already been set up and there's a lead piece on the wheel already." She allowed him to get in position. "Keep your left hand close to wheel and you'll be using your right hand to add the roving. Single ply yarn is always spun in a clockwise direction. Fluff out the end to connect to the leader yarn and use your foot on the treadle to control the rate of the spin. How fast it spins determines how tight the twist is or how thick or thin the yarn is. Pull back on the yarn to get a steady feed."

Gold sat a moment, following her directions. For some odd reason the movements felt natural to him. He sat for a moment, mesmerized by the spinning.

"Relaxing, isn't it?" Mary Margaret asked him. "I often feel like I'm going into a meditative trance while I'm spinning."

"You sell these?" he gestured to the spinning wheel.

"I have a limited selection. Earth Guild, down on Haywood, has a larger selection. They also carry looms which I don't have here. I primarily sell yarn and tools."

Gold sat quietly, spinning the roving, adding in new pieces as he ran out of one.

Mary Margaret watched him. "You're a natural. Someone would think you'd done this before."

He shook his head. "I think I would've remembered."

Mary Margaret just smiled at him, "Maybe it was from a 'before' time."

He stopped and looked at her, "You believe in past lives?"

"I don't discount anything," she told him.

He began spinning again, finding it amazingly soothing. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he heard, as if from a distance, Mary Margaret talking with him.

"Mr. Cash? Mr. Cash? Bobby? Are you all right?"

He jarred awake and looked up.

"You've been at this for more than thirty minutes. Are you all right?"

"I guess so. I went into a stupor there. This is hypnotizing," he got up.

"Well you did a fantastic job. I'd never guess you were a beginner. The yarn is nearly as even as if I had done it myself. Wow, I'm impressed. If you practiced you'd be a master in no time. I could really use you at the Fiber Festival in October."

"The what festival?"

"The Southeast Animal Fiber Festival. One of the biggest ones in the southeast. Three days worth of shows and sales and classes. It's awesome. I always have a booth there and usually teach at least one class. I guess. . . I guess, you'll be gone back to wherever you're from by then, won't you?"

Gold hadn't thought about this. He had only planned to stay for six weeks. He hadn't given any thought as to what might happen afterwards. He had initially planned to stay the time Archie had demanded and then had thought he could go back to his life, just as things had been before. But now. . . what would happen to him and Belle? He'd confessed his burgeoning love for her, but he didn't think of what might happen next. He could try to whisk her away to New York, but she wasn't likely to want to give up her store. And he didn't think he could stay here, in Asheville. Not and keep up his businesses. A long distance relationship? He didn't want to go back to sleeping alone. And he hadn't even had sex with the woman; he knew he wouldn't want to give that up once he got that going.

"I. . . uh. . . I. . . uh . . . I don't think I really know where I'll be then," he stammered.

"Well, if you're still here, you've got to promise me you'll come to the Fiber Festival," Mary Margaret smiled at him. _She really was a stunning woman, one of the fairest he'd ever seen. In love with her husband. Wanting to have his baby. _

_He had an odd moment thinking of himself. A baby? With Belle? She was a young woman, she would probably want babies. The idea of her carrying his child. . . it was. . . overwhelming, intoxicating, sweet. _

He thanked Mary Margaret for a most interesting morning and headed out. He went back to his apartment and scrounged around in the cabinets. He still had the Lean Cuisines the place had been stocked with. They sounded unappetizing after the fine food he'd been eating. He considered putting together something from Belle's stuff, but her stuff was all whole wheat and unprocessed. Nope, not a Ding Dong in the bunch.

He ate one of the frozen meals and then made his call.

Oooooooooo00000oooooooooO

"What?" it was Emma, standing at his door in jeans, a tank top and her Doc Martens. It was late afternoon.

"Miss Swan, glad you could get by," he told her, opening the door to her. She came on in.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"I need your assistance."

"You know I might have had something already planned for this afternoon," Emma told him. "I have a life."

"Did you have something planned?" he asked her.

"No," she confessed. "I don't have much of a life."

"Then you can help me."

"I'm not taking you to Walmart again," she told him.

"Then you will have to make another suggestion. I need to go to a grocery store."

"I thought you had already gotten yourself to and from Earth Fare?"

"Yeah, but I need to get some. . . well, some. . ."

Emma actually laughed at him, "Real food?"

He nodded, "I guess. Belle only eats non-processed, organic, fresh, whole grain. . . ."

Emma was still laughing, "And you want something processed, non-organic, with a shelf-life of three years and not a hint of wholesomeness?"

He hung his head, "I've confessed all to Belle, Emma. She knows I'm desperate and she's given me her approval. I need to get a stash. I don't know where to go. Can you help me?"

Emma considered a moment, "Ingles," she replied. "Come on," she opened the door and waited for him.

"And take me for barbeque later? Belle's having a poetry reading at the store," he asked on the way out.

Emma sighed.

As they walked out to the car, Gold began, "This time I'm going to drive."

Emma stopped dead in her tracks. "I don't think so. We went over this before. If I'm going to be helping you out, then we'll go in the Saturn and I'll drive."

"No, not this time, Emma. I get to drive. That was our agreement."

Emma huffed, "Oh my god, I'm having a moment of _deja poo_. I've heard all this shit before." She headed towards the little Saturn.

"No, no, Emma, we agreed," he followed her protesting.

"No, no, Bob, we didn't. That was your idea but I never agreed to it. There is no discussion here. I'm driving. I know where we're going. I know the best way to get there. You come with me in my car or I don't go."

Gold narrowed his eyes at her and stood a moment considering. He had done enough deal making and bargaining to know when he'd reached an impasse. She had all the cards in this instance, so he reluctantly acquiesced. He got in her car and sat, considering his options for equalizing his relationship with this strong-willed young woman.

"You told Belle yet who you are?" she asked him, pulling out of the garage.

"I did, we had a good talk, I think," he answered.

"She took it all right?"

He sighed. "I think, she's less concerned about the money and more concerned that I can be a complete douche sometimes," he told her.

"Good grief," Emma sounded irritated. "How does that make you different from any other guy? If that was a reason for a woman to end a relationship our species would've ground to a halt long ago. But as for you, you'd have to be some kind of a monster, a serial murderer or a child molester, for her to have second thoughts and, even then, I think she'd try to save you."

"You think?" he wasn't so sure.

"I know," she assured him.

"Emma, it's so hard. I can't trust that women aren't interested in me for my money, my power. That maybe somehow she found out and she's just trying to get close to use me."

"Not Belle. She's not like that."

"Everybody's like that Emma. Everyone has a price."

"Well aren't you Mr. Cynical?" Emma asked, maneuvering through back streets and avenues.

"It's true. Hell Emma, not for real, mind you because I'm really serious about Belle, but if I or someone else were to offer you a million to sleep with me. . . or them, I'm sure you'd consider it."

Emma shook her head, "Not for a million. You're with my best friend and," she glanced over at him, "you're not my type. I'd have to meet the 'someone else.'"

"Well how about for three million?"

"I don't think so," she retorted quickly.

"Five million," he upped the ante.

Emma blinked.

"Ok Emma, you just showed me your price. Five million. You're one expensive woman."

"So I've been told," she sat back.

He waited a moment, "What I really want to know is what you are doing here. What is an ATF agent doing in a laid back southern town?"

"Gee, I wish I wasn't working undercover and all and my mission wasn't classified," Emma shot back at him.

"You know I could call your boss's boss's boss's boss's boss and let him know what a piss-poor job you're doing. That I want you off my case and out of my sight. That would set your career back a while. You might not recover from something like that," he voice was soft, persuasive.

"You son of bitch! That's blackmail!" she nearly shouted at him.

"Actually it's extortion," he clarified for her.

"You aren't serious?" she asked him.

"I'm in business and I've found that the more information I have, the better decisions I can make."

"I can tell you a bit, but if you're going to try to. . . extort me into telling you more than I can, I'll tell Belle."

He held himself together. "Impressive, Emma," he said slowly. "You just found my price. Go ahead then, tell me what you can."

"OK, this part has been in the paper. There have been a series of guns and drugs disappearing from evidence rooms in towns and cities across the southeast. It's like someone is coming into a town and finding a city official who is vulnerable or greedy and getting to them. But that someone who comes into town doesn't stick around long enough for the local people to get a handle on it. Lately it's turned more sinister. The officer that had initially reported this here in Asheville, Officer Graham, died under suspicious circumstances. He had a heart attack. A young man, healthy, in the prime of life, had a heart attack."

"Suspicious," Gold agreed.

"He and Nolan were good friends and they had contacted ATF to help with the investigation about two years ago. What they were reporting fit into what had been reported in several other cities. I'm here on ground level to see what I can pick up as to what might be going on."

"And how is that going?"

Emma winced, "Things are going. Let's leave it at that, please."

He looked her over. "All right."

They had pulled into the grocery store parking lot. Emma found a place right up front and then turned to him, "Before we get out, let's have a couple of ground rules."

"What? Why do we need ground rules for a grocery store?" he was slightly offended.

"I don't want you running around like a sugared up six year old with a pocketful of birthday money."

"Hey, I'm a grown man," he protested.

"Yeah, but you're like most grown men and you don't have a lot of grocery store shopping experience. Hell, you probably don't have any grocery store shopping experience. These things are set up to get you to buy. Grocery stores have very high conversion rates; nobody goes into a grocery store just to browse. They have figured out a gazillion ways to get you to buy more and more and more."

"So what? I'm here to buy."

"Don't get crazy. Just 'cause Belle has told you it's ok, you don't have to go all out."

They had gotten inside the store. He immediately went to their Starbucks. He wanted to get the 'extreme long shot' When he was greeted with a blank stare, Emma ordered behind him, "He wants a red eye."

"You sure you want coffee this late in the day?" she'd asked him as they stood by waiting for his drink.

"Caffeine doesn't affect me," he waved her off.

"OK," Emma wasn't convinced. They got his coffee and then went on into the main part of the store.

"So we get a grocery cart?" he asked her. He was trying to be good.

"Good enough," she told him.

They first went into the produce section. He was shaking his head. "I already have lotsa stuff to juice. Nothing new here."

Emma stopped a moment to look over some boxed greens. When she turned around, he'd already wandered off.

She found him soon enough at the display of grains and nuts.

"Oh, Emma, I can grind my own peanut butter! Or almond butter or honey-roasted peanut butter!" He grabbed a plastic tub and proceeded to operate the machine to get the honey-roasted peanut butter.

Emma approved the selection. "It's not organic but the honey-roasted stuff is great," she agreed with him.

They went on into the store and down the chip aisle. Gold was astonished. "Wow, there are a lot of choices. I have no idea what to get. What do you recommend?"

"There's regular, ruffled, vinegar, barbeque, doritos, cheetos, others. What do you like?"

"I've only had chef-prepared chips. They were fresh potatoes that had been thinly sliced, fried, salted. Nothing out of a bag."

"Oh good grief," said Emma. "Get some plain chips, some vinegar, and a barbeque." She tossed them in. "See which one you like best."

"And I need bread," Gold told her.

"Bunny bread and hamburger buns," Emma told him and popped the white bread and white bread burger buns into his cart.

He was entranced by the jelly aisle. "They have ginger jam. I love ginger jam," he told Emma.

"Then get some."

On the next aisle someone was riding a cart down the middle of the aisle. She would periodically stop and get out to reach things from the shelf. Gold graciously helped her reach some boxed potatoes.

"I think we saw that person at Walmart," he told Emma. "Why would anyone buy boxed potatoes? You can get whole potatoes from the produce department."

"Boxed potatoes are a convenience food."

"A what kind of food?"

"Convenience. Processed. Just add water and ta-da."

"Do I want some?"

"Probably not, Belle's already going to stroke when she finds meat in your freezer and white bread in your pantry."

"She told me it would be ok. So now what do you suggest?"

Emma guided him through the store pointing out better deals, introducing him to 'house brands.' He had already noticed the prices were almost always cheaper than at the Earth Fare. And there were way more choices. He picked up catsup and, upon Emma's advice, some sriracha sauce.

Emma threw in some beanie-weenies, some pinto beans, some chili-tomatoes, some house brand Manwich sauce and then went to the meat counter. Talking with him, she got him some ground meat, some bacon, prepped hamburgers and a couple of small steaks.

On to the freezer aisles. Gold was brought to a halt. He began looking the cases up and down. The first thing he picked up were some frozen pizzas. Then he showed Emma a box of things he wasn't quite sure about.

"What are these?" he asked Emma.

"Pizza bagels. You'll like em. Get some," she told him. He tossed them into the cart.

"And these?" he held up some microwavable French fries. "These are French fries I can just nuke and have them ready to eat?"

"Yup," she confirmed.

He put in ten boxes of the fries.

"Oh, fish sticks! I love fish sticks," he told her.

"You're kidding?" Emma wasn't sure if he might be kidding her.

"Great food. I'll need to get some oil to cook them in," he told her and did some backtracking.

"You know how to fry food?"

"I'm Scottish, of course I can fry food," he told her.

"Didn't know that about the Scots," Emma admitted.

"A cuisine born of poverty. Anything tastes better if it's fried."

"Can't argue with that," Emma agreed with him. "I'm a southerner. We fry everything, meat, vegetables, twinkies, butterfingers, butter."

"You fry butter?"

"Yeah a stick of butter is dipped in a batter and deep fried. Fair food. Don't worry about it."

They had retraced their steps and made it over to the dairy case. He found some prepped custards and picked some of them up. "You can dip the fish sticks into the custard. Very Dr. Who," he told her.

Emma made a few gagging sounds.

Then came the Beer Cave. He disappeared into it and, in a few moments, called Emma to come in and help. "I don't know American beer. They don't have anything here that I've found at Jefferson's. I need a suggestion."

"This is just to drink while you're sitting around in your boxers watching evening tv, right?"

"More like the occasional afternoon libation," he clarified. "In the evenings, I plan to be 'entertaining' Miss Belle."

"Then she may need something to drink," Emma commented and had him pick up a twenty-four pack of Bud Light.

Emma also had him buy a freezer bag and a bag of ice to preserve the food in the July early evening heat.

He wandered down the magazine aisle, the toiletries, and the sock and underwear section.

"Hey, I could come here instead of Walmart for a lot of things," he told Emma.

"Why that's brilliant! I wonder if anyone else has figured that out," she replied.

He looked down suddenly, "I probably need to put most of this back. Belle won't be happy with me eating like this."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Remind me to find out what Belle did with that jar."

He didn't follow, "What jar?"

"The one she's keeping your stones in, Bob," she made a face at him.

He laughed, "As far as I'm concerned the woman can wear them around her neck. Emma," he became serious for a moment. "I've told Belle that I'm falling in love with her and it's true."

"Then I hope you know that she wouldn't judge, that she would encourage you to make your own choices. Besides, you eat well when she's around. This is your private stash – guy food and," she looked over his cart, "if I'm ever up there, it'll be Emma food, too."

As they got back into the Saturn, Gold turned to her and asked, "Now you are going to take me out for barbeque?"

Emma laughed at him again, "We drop this by your apartment first. You don't want meat sitting in the car any longer than you have to, even in ice."

"Then we'll get my car and I'll drive," he told her.

"No. You want to try barbeque. My car. I drive."

He sighed. "I'm a good driver," he told her.

"So am I. Suck it up, big guy."

They drove by the apartment and quickly got the goods upstairs and put away. They were able to get back out to the car and Emma drove them over to Swannanoa River Road and pulled into a restaurant attached to a Shell station.

"This is a restaurant?" Gold was not impressed.

"Webo's. Maybe the best place for barbeque in Asheville. Friday's are the best days to come. They have ribs then. But we'll still make out all right," she told him.

At her suggestion he got the pork sandwich plate and selected two sides, cole slaw and mac and cheese and, at the staff's suggestion, he got some sweet tea. Emma also got the pork sandwich and her sides were potato salad and some baked beans.

"You got a special evening planned with Belle?" Emma asked him over the meal.

Gold nearly swallowed his tongue. _Rather. She's promised me sex. And I've promised her to try to be good. _He managed to share, "She'll be late home from the shop, the Saturday night poetry reading going on. But yeah, I got a special evening planned."

"About time," Emma encouraged him.

000000ooooo000000

Gold had a split of champagne and a little more of the chocolate covered strawberries ready for her. He debated shaving, but Belle seemed to like his scruffy beard that he was growing. He went ahead and watered the vegetables for Belle. He checked his cigarettes, still five left.

When Belle got in, she actually crashed into him and they began kissing each other hungrily.

"I want to take off your clothes," he told her.

"And I want to take off yours," she answered him.

He handed her one of the glasses of champagne and fed her one of the chocolate covered strawberries. She downed both.

Belle then pulled off his tee-shirt while he removed her tank top. She kissed him down the neck and on to his chest, working her way down and then back up.

"You know I want to do this, but I'm very nervous," she admitted.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised.

"I know that. I'm nervous that I won't be any good and you'll be disappointed," she confessed. "And I'm a little scared of you. I mean I saw your. . . thing and I don't possibly see how it's going to fit."

"It might take us a moment or two," he told her. "But it will fit." And there it was, a slight smile.

"Bobby, understand something. I want you." She put her hand on his chest. "This person."

"Oh, Belle. I hope I don't disappoint you," he told her.

He reached for her and they began to kiss each other again, undress each other and take steps to go back into his bedroom. They left a trail of clothing along the way, his and hers and by the time they got to the bed, they had managed to remove all of their clothing and for the first time they were able to lay together without a layer of fabric between them.

"Belle, I want to kiss you, down there, and make you come for me. I think it will make the rest of the evening easier for you," he told her.

Belle nodded, trusting him.

He dropped his hand to between her legs and began to gently rub her, stroking her. She relaxed and opened her legs to his questing fingers. He was quite pleased to feel that she was already beginning to get wet for him and he used the moisture to lubricate his efforts. He avoided direct contact with her clit initially, just occasionally brushing against it as it peeked out between her nether lips. As she became increasingly aroused, she began to thrash, shifting to encourage his touch. He kissed her on the mouth and then slowly began to kiss down her body. He had been stopping at her waist, but tonight he continued to kiss her down stopping at the top of her cleft.

"Bobby, I don't know about this," she managed to gasp out.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked her.

"No," she answered in a small voice.

"I would if you asked me to, Belle, I'm really trying to be good."

He then planted a firm kiss on the top of the cleft and then began to firmly kiss down the slit, slipping his tongue between the folds, licking and kissing. By the time he reached her clit, it was stiff and jutting out. It was irresistible and he flicked it with his tongue, then gently caressing it with his lips. He slipped a single finger into her passage and she gasped, the walls closing in, holding his finger.

He had to stop a moment, the sensation of her vaginal walls closing in on his finger was incredible. He got control of himself and continued to lick and suck. She did indeed taste delicious and he was enjoying the sweet wine that his tongue was able to lap up. She definitely seemed aroused enough to manage direct contact and he bent his full attention to her clit. He began to suck on it and he felt Belle's hands clasp his head, her fingers entwining into his hair. There was a moment when the little extension disappeared. He continued his efforts and he felt Belle stiffen, her entire body beginning to shake and powerful spasms beginning. His finger, his hand was drenched. Belle screamed and her scream seemed to go on and on; it took them both a moment to realize that it was no longer Belle, but their phones going off into screeching alarms.

It was Belle that first registered the alarms. "That's an alarm. There's a problem," she managed to gasp out. "We're both getting emergency calls." Belle hesitated. She didn't want to stop what was happening with Bobby but she also knew that her friends would never use the alarm app without there being a true emergency.

Gold sighed and closed his eyes a moment. No way she was going to be able to relax without at least finding out what the 'emergency' was. He gave her a quick kiss and she could taste herself on his lips. "I'll get both phones. They're in the living room. He came back in a moment and handed Belle her phone. He looked at his. Belle looked at hers and made a call.

"Yes, Mary Margaret," she said. "Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh my stars! Is he all right?" There was a pause and she glanced up at Gold who was standing by the bed, reading a text message. "Of course. Of course. I understand. We'll be right there. Can I get you anything? Stop off and get anything?" There was another pause. "Uh huh. Uh huh. All right. We'll be there as soon as we can."

She disconnected the phone and looked at Gold. He had been reading his text message from Emma. He looked at Belle. "We have to go to the hospital," he told her.

Belle nodded, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" She told him.

Gold shook his head. Not her fault. Damn, so not her fault. "I'm sorry, too, but this can't be helped."

James Nolen, Deputy Mayor, Mary Margaret Snow's significant other, had been shot.

Day thirteen, thirty nine more to go.

**Thanks to all those great reviewers: The Prince's Phoenix, Daseki no Kama, AlexandraBelleRose, juju0268, DruidKitty, cheesyteal'c, Estrany, TeamTHEFT, Leafena, thedoctorsgirl42, Grace5231973, Attracted2Insanity, Lattelady, TcEm, Just 2 Dream of You, and Hermitess.**

**And thanks to new reviewers: WastefulWaif and ****Aletta-Feather**

**And special thanks to NicoleMuenchSeidel and DDY218 (Guest) – hoping this chapter begins to address some of your concerns (hope I didn't make him too wimpy - I like the controlling, arrogant bastard, myself - but I also don't want Belle to be a doormat).**

_NEXT: Gold and the Black Card_

_Gold and the Coffee Machine_

_ Gold and the Tiny Obstruction_


	14. About Time

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**About Time**

Gold realized that he had dozed off on the corner of a hard hospital sofa. Belle was curled up, her feet pulled up onto the seat of the sofa. She was turned to face him and had her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around him. She was fast asleep, mostly lying on top of him. Her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils and some of the short curly hairs on the top of her head tickled his nose. She was, as always, soft and pliant, warm and cuddly. He'd wrapped his arms around her and was holding her closely. He reached up to stroke her hair and, as always, the smell of soap and sugar and roses wafted up to him.

He realized that he wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life with her lying in his arms.

He wondered if she wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of her life lying in his arms.

He gently kissed her along the hair line. She whimpered, like a kitten, and snuggled in closer to him. He sat for a long while just holding her. He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and saw Emma stretch and her eyes open. She had spent the night in a chair and had slumped down and curled over. She began to rub her neck and her back and move about to work out kinks and cramps.

"That wasn't comfortable," he heard her say. She glanced over at him and quickly took in his position.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked in a low voice.

"No, I'm just going to sit here a while," he stroked Belle's hair again.

Next to them, Jefferson was completely out, his long form stretched out on another sofa, his feet hanging off the end. A blanket that had been acquired from a friendly nurse had slipped off. Emma got up and pulled it up and laid it back on top of him.

"I'm going to check in with Mary Margaret," she told Gold and softly left him with his sleeping company.

It was only a moment when Emma, with Mary Margaret in tow, came back in. Mary Margaret looked exhausted. She sat down on the end of the sofa where Belle was snoozing and Gold was sitting. She began talking, "They tell me they think he's going to make it. There should be full recovery, but it will take him awhile. It's the best news we can get," she told everyone her voice flat with fatigue.

"You've been up all night?" Gold asked her.

"Pretty much," she admitted.

Gold shifted as gently as he could and slid out from under Belle, allowing her to lie down on the sofa.

"Emma, stay with this crew," he directed pointing to the sleeping Belle and Jefferson. "I'm going to take Mary Margaret to get breakfast," he ordered. He held his hand out to Mary Margaret who reluctantly took it.

"You need to get something to eat. You'll be no good to him if you let yourself get worn down. Come with me, we'll get breakfast."

Emma encouraged her, "Go on. He's right. You need to eat something. I'll be here. If there's any change, I'll give you a call right away."

Mary Margaret hesitated but allowed Gold to lead her away.

Pent-up nervous energy had afforded him the opportunity to explore the hospital the previous evening. He was able to get them right to the hospital cafeteria. He took her through the line, encouraging her to get a good breakfast. He got himself eggs, toast, bacon, something they were calling hashbrowns (but nothing like what he had gotten at Waffle House) and, as an after thought, he added grits. They both opted to get coffee, getting a cup and then finding out that the coffee dispensers were out in the seating area.

When they got to the register, Gold reached for his wallet and realized in his rush to leave the apartment last night, that he had not replenished his cash. "Do you take American Express?" he asked the cashier.

The woman, obviously bored in her job, nodded.

He took out his card.

"This ain't no regular American Express," the woman announced loudly.

"No, it isn't," Gold confirmed.

"American Express cards are blue or silver. I ain't never seen one that's black. You sure this is real?"

"I'm quite sure," he'd had this reaction before when using this particular card.

Mary Margaret was standing behind him, listening to and watching the interchange. "Holy moley!" she said. "That's a black American Express!" She looked at it more closely and exclaimed with awe, "Oh my stars! That's a gold-rimmed black American Express." She reached over and took the card. "This is their new ones, isn't it? The black card is pretty exclusive but this one is only given to people who do like a million dollars worth of business a month on their card. Only a handful of people in the world have one of these."

There were several people behind them who were craning their necks to look at his card. Several of them were affirming the authenticity of The Black Card.

Mary Margaret handed it back to the cashier. "This is good. Good as in the-man-could-use-it-to-buy-this-hospital. Take a good look at it. You probably won't ever see another one," she told her.

Suspiciously the woman ran the card and when there were no problems, she allowed them to take their two breakfasts.

He walked behind Mary Margaret carrying his tray with both of them stopping to get coffee. They found a small table and sat down.

Mary Margaret was looking at him, not touching her food.

"So," she finally said, "You're Robert Spinner, also known as Mr. Gold, the man who turns houses of straw into houses of gold." _So she had read the name on the car._ "You aren't just rich, you're mega rich. You're in the Forbes top twenty." She suddenly took a sharp intake of breath. "You're Milah's husband!"

"Ex-husband," he clarified, glaring at her.

She still sat looking at him, "Have you told Belle?"

"It's not an easy thing to tell somebody, Mary Margaret. I've got a lot of money and a beastly reputation."

"How long can you keep it from her? Eventually she'll find out. Milah's gonna spill the truth at some point. I see her comments going in that direction."

"Oh, I took care of that," he said darkly.

"I doubt that. Milah strikes me as somebody who doesn't exactly bend to anyone. And if you've challenged her, she'll come back at you."

_What could he say? She had Milah down right._

He looked up at Mary Margaret, "I've told Belle," he confessed.

He took a couple of bites of his food and Mary Margaret followed suit.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

They were all still sitting out in the small floor lobby. Waiting for updates, supporting Mary Margaret who had been able to fitfully, briefly nap. Belle had since awakened and she and Emma had gone to get breakfast and they had come back. It was still morning, about ten thirty, when Jefferson woke up. He decided that he wanted coffee and wandered over to the huge coffee vending machine in the waiting area that took up the usual space of two machines.

The new-style machine immediately began to give him some trouble. It wouldn't accept his money. He tried first one bill, then another and then a third bill. It wouldn't take any of the bills, spitting each one back. After about his twentieth attempt, it finally took the money. Jefferson then began to push the buttons to get his coffee. There was a separate button for each addition, one for the coffee, another one for the creamer choice, another for the sweetener and a final one for flavoring. There was a final button to confirm the order and the cup was supposed to drop at that point and the machine respond with coffee and add-ins.

Jefferson kept pushing the buttons, but nothing would happen. He became increasingly irritated and began to hit the machine with some force. The machine finally seemed to hiccup and coffee poured out, followed by a non-dairy creamer, followed by the sweetner and then the flavoring and. . . finally, the cup. By now Jefferson was ranting.

Belle shook her head, "I was wanting to get a cup myself, but now I don't know."

Gold looked obligingly at Belle. "I'll see what I can do." And he rose and went over to Jefferson.

"No, no, no," he had come up behind Jefferson who was hitting the coffee machine with the heel of his hand and calling it unfortunate names. "That will get you nowhere."

"Well, what do you expect? When I finally got the damn thing to take my money, the bitch gave me the coffee first before she spit out the cup."

Gold shook his head. "I've been watching this machine while we've been here. This is not just any machine that you can just shove your money into, twist some knobs, and push a couple of buttons and expect to get your coffee. This," he laid the back of his hand on the front of the machine and traced it down along the front of the machine, "is a delicate piece of equipment. It's got bells and whistles you've never seen before. You have to handle it with skill. . . with finesse. . . with patience. Here, let me show you."

Emma and Belle had come up behind the men as Gold was talking and they stopped to watch the demonstration.

"Now, she won't just take any dollar bill. You've got to have the right equipment. Your bill needs to be straight. . . stiff and you have to set it in just right. . . like so," and he effortlessly fed a dollar into the machine's slot.

"Great, you got it in the first time," Jefferson was impressed. He started to reach for the selection buttons, but Gold stopped him.

"But wait, this machine takes a moment. She needs to register the dollar bill, know that it's come into her, it's hers. She can take it. She can handle it." He patted the deposit slot. "Once she's been able to accept the bill, then it's best if you begin slowly," he dropped his hand down the selection buttons, letting the tips of his fingers slowly caress the smooth outer plastic of the machine.

Emma and Belle had been joined by Mary Margaret.

"You're going to make your choice," he was speaking in a soft voice, accented with his brogue and a definite masculine timbre. "When you've given her the time she needs, then she's ready for you to begin. You need to press in exactly the right place. . . hard," he demonstrated, selecting the coffee, his strong fingers pushing on the selection button, "then, give her a moment but, letting her know you're in charge, press your creamer choice, slowly and hard," he demonstrated again. "Then, give her another moment, press the sweetner, slowly and hard," again his hand went to the machine. "Give her another moment, press the flavoring, slowly and hard." He did so, keeping a steady pacing, a rhythm, his entire body rocking with the driving tempo he had established.

Belle felt herself growing red, Emma cleared her throat and Mary was smiling at the man.

Unaware that he was being watched, Gold continued on with the younger man, "Now, you've got her attention, wait, give her time. Give her time. You can't be in a hurry here." He pulled back just slightly. "You're waiting for her to be ready. She'll let you know," he dropped his fingers to a small knobbed light just above the order button, tracing it with his fingers. When it came on, he reached for the 'order' button, "Now, you can press your order, slowly, hard, don't hesitate, don't back off, don't wimp out, but don't bully her either. She needs this. She's so ready for you. Press your order." Again he used his long, strong fingers and pressed masterfully on the machine's small, pert order button.

There was a brief pause, and then the cup dropped and in a pulsating flow, in poured the coffee, and then the creamer, and then the sweetner and finally the flavoring, starting strongly and slowly weakening. (Belle felt an involuntary whimper come out of her lips.) As it was pouring, Jefferson started to reach in, but Gold stopped him.

"Wait, she's not through yet. Let her finish. Let her get all the way through. You will almost hear a sigh from this machine, as if, as if, she's glad she's got the job done for you."

"OK, that's cool," Jefferson told him.

"Ah, but wait, there's still more." Gold told him, cautioning him. "Most men would just grab their coffee and walk off, leaving her, and she's all warmed up and ready. So now, now that she is all warmed up, if you are ready with a second bill, you can put it in," he did so. "and giving her just a little time, not nearly as much as you did the first time, you can press for your coffee," he pushed the button, "the creamer," he pushed another button, "the sweetner," he pushed another button, "and the flavoring," he pushed another button, his rhythm faster, harder this time. The little light flashed. "Finally, you can push the order button and . . " the cup dropped and the coffee began to pour. "See that second time was much, much faster." He waited while the machine finished and he got out Belle's coffee. "Now, with this machine, now she's warmed up properly, you can get a third, even a fourth cup without taking a break, but then, and I've studied this machine, she'll probably need a little rest before you can get coffee again."

Emma had quickly dug into her wallet and pulled out a dollar which she brought over to Gold. She went over to him and held it out, "Get me a cup while you're at it," she handed the dollar off to Gold who dutifully put it into the machine and slowly, smoothly, went through the demonstration again, checking with Emma regarding her preferences.

Emma stood by, waiting, running her hand up behind her neck to pull her hair away from her skin. She licked her lips. The cup dropped and coffee poured into it. Once it was finished, Gold reached in, took it out and handed her the cup. Emma asked him, "Thanks, was that good for you?"

He was completely puzzled and turned round to see Belle. He held up her coffee, the second cup that he'd produced from the machine.

Mary Margaret murmured to Belle, "I think the man just cheated on you with the coffee machine."

"I think so," Belle agreed. "Not sure which is worse, the infidelity or the fact he did it out here in front of God and half of Georgia," Belle told her. She smiled at Gold and went over to get her coffee.

Emma raised her cup to Gold in a salute and told Jefferson, "You listen to this man, you can learn a lot from him."

Jefferson, who was busy with his own coffee, looked at Emma, then at Gold.

"Do you know what she's talking about?" he asked the older man.

"Not a clue, but women are a mystery to me," he admitted.

"I somehow doubt that," Emma told him.

oooooooooooooooo

Mary Margaret had gotten an update. James was doing was well as could be expected, but was due to remain in ICU at least for twelve more hours. If he remained stable they would soon be releasing him into a regular room, probably sometime on Monday. For now, visitors were limited to shortened hours, between 9 and 10 and between 2 and 3. And only two visitors back at a time.

At noon, Gold again had urged Mary Margaret to go and get lunch. Belle took her down to the cafeteria this time. Jefferson had dropped off back to sleep. Gold sat and looked at Emma.

"Holding up all right?" he asked her.

"Yeah, sure," she answered shortly.

They sat quietly a moment.

"You don't think this was random, do you?" he asked her.

She shifted in her seat. "I don't think so."

"Did they miss or was it just meant to be a warning shot?" he asked.

"I think it was meant to be a warning."

"But it bothers you," he stated it as a fact.

"Yeah. He's part of my watch. I didn't know they were coming into town just yet. I think that this was just meant to be a calling card. To let me know that they're coming and to stay away."

"And they're willing to go after people that are close to you?" he softly questioned her.

He wasn't sure if she was more surprised by her response or if he was. He looked up to see that Emma had large tears tracing down her face. He went over and sat by her, putting his arm around her. "I don't know that I can go through this again," she told him. "I've been on projects where civilians were threatened, but I didn't know them as well as I know these people. They've already killed one person I cared about. What if that shot had hit Mary Margaret or Belle or little Ashley?"

She sobbed into his shoulder for a while before pulling herself back together. "I'm sorry," she told him, wiping her nose by pulling her tank top out of her jeans and using it as a handkerchief. "I'm being such a girl. Not my usual style. It's the personal connection that's doing me in," she explained. She was sitting up now, recovered from her outburst. Gold couldn't help but admire the woman's strength.

"Don't you dare tell anybody about this," she admonished him.

He tried to look innocent, "Who'd believe me?" Then he asked, "Emma, I know this is out of my expertise, but you know if there is anything I can do. . ."

"Leave town. You'd be one less thing for me to worry about. You know, if these guys have any idea who you are, if they find out, you could become a target. And I know, I know, you grew up on the mean streets, you ran with a gang, even more impressively, you got out of the gang. But that was what, twenty, nearly thirty years ago and even then, you didn't get out unscathed – that knee of yours is a battle scar from your gangbanger days."

Gold sat back, "Pretty much, that's public knowledge. It sounds like I should start carrying my gun."

"How'd you get a gun permit? You haven't been here thirty days? Oh never mind. I'm sure a call from Homeland Security paved the way."

He just looked at her, "Yeah, sure, that was what did it."

Emma closed her eyes. Exasperated she spoke to him, "You know I'm a duly appointed officer of the law, don't you?"

"And I fully support you," he replied.

"But you aren't going to leave town, are you?" she observed.

"I've been in some nasty situations several times. If I could convince Belle to come with me, maybe, but you and I both know that is not going to happen."

Emma nodded, "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say."

Belle and Mary Margaret had come back to join them. Mary Margaret shared that she was going to go back into see James at two and then probably head home to get a shower and some rest. She planned to come back early Monday. She was still clearly worried.

"How can we help with your shop?" Gold asked her. "Do you have an assistant who can take over for you while you stay near James?"

"Ashley would be able to come for a couple of days," Belle spoke up. "I might could get Ruby over also, if I can get Wendy to sub for her. But neither one of them can help with technical advice."

Mary Margaret smiled at her, "I've already had the members of the _Tudor Rose_ group contact me. They have worked out a volunteer schedule to come in and be available to offer technical advice but none of them said they could run a register. If Ashley or Ruby could come that would solve that. But I still have the craft fair to get ready for."

"Craft fair?" Gold asked.

"The Southern Highland's Guild. Mary Margaret always has a booth and sells some of her spinning, some of her patterns," explained Belle. "Listen, Mary Margaret, you know we'll all help you with that."

"Ahem," Gold cleared his throat. "I know that you three are party to my true identity. Mary Margaret, I wouldn't want you to feel under any obligation, but I'm in a position to pay for some qualified temporary help for your shop. Consider it a return favor for all that you ladies have done for me."

Mary Margaret considered. "I may need to take you up on that offer, Bobby, if James remains hospitalized for any amount of time. . . oh. . . and when he gets out. . . he'll probably need someone twenty-four seven."

"I'll talk with Ashley, Ruby and Wendy right away," Belle promised. They watched as Mary Margaret left them to go and visit with her husband.

Jefferson had awakened by this time and they gave him an update. He, Gold and Emma then went down for a late lunch, leaving Belle to wait for Mary Margaret and make her phone calls.

"I hate hospitals," Jefferson said to no one in particular.

Gold remembered the man's child had been diagnosed with leukemia.

"Spent a lot of time in 'em?" he asked.

"Too much," Jefferson admitted. "Brings back tough memories."

"I can't imagine," Gold told him. "Belle told me about your daughter. No child should have to go through that."

"She's an amazing kid. Doing very well, right now. We're two years out."

Gold nodded, "Cancer's a bitch," he agreed.

00oo00oo00oo00

Jefferson took Mary Margaret home. Emma also went on. Gold and Belle sat quietly in the hospital lobby.

"I'd like to take you back to my apartment and finish what we began, but if you need some time. . ." he began.

She looked him in the eye. "I don't want to wait another moment, Bobby Spinner," she told him. "James could have died when he was shot. Do you think Mary Margaret would have been more likely to regret the moments they had together or the moments they didn't?"

"Then let's go," he stood and took her hand.

When they got back to the building, he had them stop by her apartment first.

"Nothing, nothing is going to interfere with us tonight," he told her. "I want you to get yourself ready, and know this: I'll be wanting to undress you my dear, so make sure you keep on all your packaging material. Take care of your cats; I don't want any feline emergencies coming up. Oh, and we're leaving our cell phones here," he told her.

Belle took hers and plugged it into a recharger, "But what if James takes a bad turn?"

"Let's say I'm very intuitive and he won't," Gold answered her.

"Well, you're an important man," she began again. "What if someone like the President calls?"

"If the President calls, he can wait until morning for me to return the call," he answered her again.

Belle was smiling, "Well, what if your ex-wife calls?"

He gave her a ghost of a smile back, "If Milah calls, she can wait until hell freezes over for me to return the call."

Belle nodded. "Why doesn't your phone need recharging?"

"Another time, my dear. I'm going upstairs and will water the plants, then I'll be waiting for you. No more questions," he kissed her gently on the lips and left her.

Belle stood a moment. _It was actually going to happen. _Belle considered. _Did she have time for a quick shower? It wouldn't take her long._ She stripped off and hopped in. _Personal best for quickest shower—even giving bonus attention to the ladyscaping. _Remembering his request, she redressed in fresh clothes, adding her usual necklaces and earrings. She slipped on some sandals. She fed the cats. She brushed her teeth. She put on some mascara and a little lip gloss.

00000

Gold had grabbed a quick shower himself. He'd redressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt. He'd watered the plants. He was now waiting for his Belle.

When she tapped on the door, he opened it and directed her to remove her shoes for him. He then led her in directly to his bedroom. He turned and turned on the light. Belle reached behind him and turned it off. They were left in the darkness with city lights filtering through the windows.

He began by kissing her ear lobes, circling his tongue around her earrings and then pulling the hoops out of her lobes and dropping the earrings to the floor He removed her necklace, also dropping it to the floor. He began kissing her neck. She shivered.

He pulled off her tank top and ran his hands up and down her arms. When his hands reached her shoulders, she turned her head to kiss his hand. She reached for him, to help him remove his tee-shirt. He stopped her.

"No, I want to undress you first," he told her. "There will be all the time for everything else. . . later."

She allowed him to remove her bra, automatically covering herself with her arms. He pulled her arms down and guided her backwards to sit on his bed. His hands went to her breasts and he caressed them, holding each one in his hands. "These are perfect, my dear." He brushed his thumbs against the nipples, already swollen, revealing her arousal. He lowered himself to kiss each one, taking his time. He tipped her back onto the bed and pulled off her skirt. She was now wearing only her white, plain, cotton panties. Gold ran his hands down her waist, down her thighs.

Gold was taking his time . . . or trying to . . . with his precious Belle. It was only a moment before he reached down and removed her last shred of protection. He traced his hands along her hips and brushed his fingers across her. "Open your legs for me," he told her. She was trembling but complied. He knelt between her legs and briefly dropped himself over her, kissing her mouth, rubbing himself against her. Her legs came up around him.

"You like this?" he asked her.

"Uh huh," she admitted. "It feels very nice. But . . ." she didn't finish, couldn't finish when he began kissing down her body.

"What?" he asked her, whispering between kisses. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to see you and feel you without the teeshirt and the jeans," she managed to get out.

"Of course," he agreed and pulling himself up so that he rested on his knees, he pulled off his teeshirt, then unfastened his jeans, pushing them off his hips and down to his knees.

No graceful way out of this, he slipped off the bed, and dropped his jeans and his boxers. Then he moved onto the bed next to her.

They were lying on his bed, she on her back and he on his side. Belle still remained shy to his gaze. The lights from the city came through the bedroom windows.

For the first time, Gold allowed her to touch him, but he cautioned her. He had few reserves. If she gave him too much stimulation he would surely lose himself before he could begin.

Belle enjoyed this new activity that he was allowing her. She softly touched him, her fingers trailing up and down his length and his breathe catching in his throat when she encircled him. She felt a surge of power over the man, that her touch could bring him to the edge so quickly. She held him but before she could move her hand on him, he put his own hand over hers.

"Too close, Belle. I'm finding I'm as eager as a school boy for you," He changed positions so that he was lying on top of her. He caressed her breasts, tweaking the nipples, dropping kisses on the soft tissue. "You are so perfect, so beautiful," he told her.

She pushed herself up to kiss him on the neck and shoulder.

"Belle, you know what I want to do. You want it too?" he murmured along her neck.

"I do, you know I do."

"Are you still scared of me?" he asked her.

She nodded and her eyes were wide, showing some of that fear. It had been a long time for her and her first experiences had been dismal.

He ran his hands down her body and between her legs. She was wet, very wet.

"You know I won't hurt you," he promised her, "You tell me if I hurt you." He was smiling down at her, "I think you're ready," he told her. He carefully arranged himself between her legs, kneeling up for a moment. "Damn," he slid off the bed and quickly found his wallet. He pulled out a condom wrapper and quickly resumed his position. Belle had automatically closed her legs, but once up on the bed, he gently spread her thighs. He opened the wrapper and quickly slipped on the condom. He leaned forward, lying on her, his arms supporting his weight.

"Do you want to guide me or shall I take charge?"

"As much as I like you taking charge, let me help with this," she told him and reached down to grasp him, noting him closing his eyes as her hand encircled him again. She positioned him at her entrance and pulled her hand back.

"I'm ready. Kiss me please," she asked him.

He kissed her and pushed in.

Then stopped.

"Belle?" he had sweat on his forehead.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, panicking. Was he finding her unworthy already?

"Belle, I'm going to need you to put your hands on my shoulders and hold on," he told her, not moving.

"Why, is there something wrong?" she was beginning to get upset. _It wasn't going well._

"Belle, I know I promised you that I wouldn't hurt you, but I'm afraid I'm doing to do just that. Now, put your hands on my shoulders."

When she hesitated, shaking her head, "Why? What?"

"Do it, brace yourself against me," he ordered her. She followed his directives, not sure why he was talking as if he was in pain himself. "Kiss me," he ordered.

She did so and she felt him surge into her. There was an abrupt stinging, not at all what she expecting. But then he was filling her, swelling her, pushing her limits. She had never felt anything like this. He didn't move. He held still, kissing her urgently. "Belle, Belle, please, please, please be all right. Be ok."

She managed to nod, still holding onto him. "This is all right," she whispered to him.

He began to smile at her. "All right?! Oh, princess, I want this to be so much better than all right." He kissed her again. And slowly he began to move inside of her.

She wasn't uncomfortable any more, but it felt strange. She felt stretched and shifted her legs so that her knees were bent and her feet lodged against his thighs, trying better to accommodate his size. He reached down and pulled her knees up and pulled her legs around his waist. It changed her position under him and she found that he was now rubbing on a most sensitive area as he rocked back and forth within her.

"Belle, I don't know if I can last long enough to bring you over," he apologized and, in the thin half-light, she saw him close his eyes and felt him stiffen and shudder against her. The sense of fullness within her began to fade. She liked him like this, quiet and relaxed against her.

He lay on her a moment. "I'm afraid I've disappointed you," he whispered. "Another time, I promise." He managed to roll off and removed the condom and then reached for her. "Give me a moment. I'll get us something to clean you off."

"Get something?" she wasn't quite sure what he was talking about.

_Oh god. She didn't know. _"Belle, oh my sweet, darling, wonderful Belle. Your high school boyfriend apparently never managed to penetrate you. He might have started to but you were still very intact. Belle, I'm not complaining, mind you, but I was not expecting to find that you were a virgin."

"But we had. . . I thought. . . I mean. . . I was?" she was puzzled. All this time, she had assumed that Gaston had gotten the deed done. _All that fumbling and pushing... and bragging._ If she had known she had still been a virgin, she probably would have been more than terrified. And now she was also a little embarrassed.

"So you are my first?" she asked him.

"Apparently. I am quite honored. Surprised, you understand, but honored," he kissed her again. He managed to get up and go to the bathroom. He ran the water until it was hot and wet a washcloth.

He brought it back and turned on the light by the bed. The light made things look harsh and she blinked. He pulled back the cover and gently began to wipe her thighs, cleansing the dark red stain from her, the evidence of her purity and his possession.

"This is powerful magic, you know," he told her. "A virgin's blood. In the old times it would have bound me to you on a transcendental plain." He took the wash cloth and began to gently rub her back and forth, the terrycloth offering stimulation that she wasn't expecting. He watched her, persisting in his administrations, using the corner of the washcloth to brush against her, using a light, feathering touch. She began to relax, closing her eyes. By now he knew her body well, knew where she was most sensitive, knew where he could tease and stimulate and he used all his knowledge to bring her to a slow, hard orgasm, watching her clench and shake under his hand.

She heard him whisper, "Beautiful. Soon, I will get you to do this with me deep inside of you. Think of how stimulating, how exciting it will feel then." He turned off the light and lay down next to her, pulling her to him.

She had fallen asleep. Still awake, he had gotten up and redressed himself in some of his yoga pants and a teeshirt. He went out and sat in the roofgarden and, unlike his habit of the past week or so, he smoked a cigarette. The black cat was sitting out with him. He counted the cigarettes. Eight left (the hospital had a strict 'no smoking' policy which had restricted his habit). Most he had smoked there at the hospital very late at night, walking off the grounds. A few he had indulged in after they had driven off the property on the way home.

He considered all things.

Belle was his now. Truly his. This beautiful, extraordinary woman had given herself to him. Finding her a virgin had shaken him. He was her first man. _How the hell had a woman as passionate, as free-spirited, as alive as Belle, managed to submerge her sexuality? _There was a level of responsibility here that he was not expecting to find. _How could he ever leave her? _

Day fourteen, twenty-eight more to go.

**A.N. Thanks so much to you great reviews (I'm hoping I didn't leave anyone out). I wasn't able to get back to everyone personally to say thanks due to some staggering work things coming up and a spat of increased medical checkups (my numbers have mysteriously gone up (that's a good thing for my diagnosis) and I'm back in remission and back to once a month checkups - yah! – however I dose up on lorazepam to manage painful blood tests, so afterwards I go right on out and lose an evening for any writing). **

**And yeah, I decided to make her a virgin, in keeping with canon. It adds something to her relationship with Gold also, I think.**

**And yes, there is such a thing as a Black American Express (but not a gold-rimmed one - that one I added).**

**Thanks to Makaem (12 & 13), The Prince's Phoenix, Leafena, Attracted2Insanity, Just 2 Dream of You, Lattelady, cheesyteal'c, Estrany, The Auburn Girl, juju0268, anon (Guest), TeamTHEFT, AlexandraBelleRose, TCEM (Guest), Hermitess, NicoleMuenchSeide, thedoctorsgirl42, Daseki no Kama, Aletta-Feather, Esmy (Guest), Grace5231973, and Druidkitty (I'll need to check on your point – may have been a typo – I'm keeping a giant calendar to keep up with plot points – thx).**

**And special thanks to new reviewers: Arekanderu, Raspberry Not Pink, Stargate533, Vacumatic, and geller516 (6)**

_Next: A couple of quiet chapters coming up dealing with the aftermath of things and a little chat between Gold and Mary Margaret (before things start to heat up with Milah and another woman from Gold's past). _


	15. Aftermath

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 15**

**Aftermath**

Belle stretched and looked down at the man she was sprawled across. He had an arm wrapped around her. She smiled down at him and kissed him on the chin. When there was no response, she kissed him a little higher on the chin and then, when there was still no response, she kissed him directly on the mouth.

The arm across her body tightened and she felt herself rolled over. He was now lying on top of her and looking down at her.

"Madame," he addressed her, warning her, "You tease me at your own peril."

"Oh, do I? Whatever are you going to do, sir?" she asked her eyes widening in feigned innocence.

"I am debating," he gave her a small smile.

"Considering your options?" she attempted to clarify.

"Precisely. The way I see things, I could restrain myself, recognizing that you are a rank novice and need some time to sufficiently recover from the effects of. . . ah. . . my attentions." He kissed her on the mouth, "And also, I could recognize that we both have busy days ahead of us. I should simply kiss you again, then push your delectable little tush out of my bed."

"Or?" she pressed him, raising herself slightly to lick his lower lip.

"I could acknowledge that I'm in bed with a woman who appears to be a wanton slut, who is in great need. And what kind of man would I be if I didn't rise to the occasion," he was kissing her between his words. "and address the pitiable needs of such a desperate female?" He was continuing to kiss her.

He hadn't gotten off of her.

She thought their naked bodies pressed together felt deliciously wicked.

"Oh, I am really quite desperate, sir," Belle informed him, smiling up at him.

"Well, I do know how to recognize a desperate soul," he answered her and nudged her legs apart, pulling up her knees to afford him better access. He managed to remember the condom protection at the last moment and shielded himself._ Thank goodness he had put the pack on the nightstand._

She was ready for him, he was pleased to find, and this morning the procedure went more smoothly than the night before. He was able to slide in, burying himself in her heat nearly up to the hilt. He entwined his fingers with hers and spread her arms out away from her body.

"Wrap your legs around me," he directed her and when she did, he found he could push down his entire length into her, coming directly into contact with her most sensitive area. He heard her gasp but she did not cry out. He began to slowly move in her, back and forth, mindful that she still quite new at this type of activity. Slowly, deliberately. He moved back and forth

She struggled against his grip on her hands.

"Let me touch you, please," she begged him.

"Since you asked so prettily," he released her from his pinioning grasp and her arms immediately went around him, holding onto his shoulders, curling around to his neck, pulling him even closer to her. And still he was moving back and forth.

He'd had nearly a week to play with her body, and knew what she liked and how she liked it. He began to push into her hard, making sure he had contact with her sensitive feminine bud. He wanted to make her come while he was inside of her _and, yes, he knew he was in 'contest' mode again, but, hell, that's how he'd gotten a couple of billion dollars in the bank. He wasn't about to abandon the mindset that had brought him so much success. _And still he was in her, moving back and forth.

He kissed her, forcing her mouth open, hearing a soft cry come from her. Now his tongue could plunder inside her soft lips. He was again so very pleased when he felt her tongue shyly come forward to touch his own and softened his attack so that soon enough they were licking and lightly fencing together. And still he was moving back and forth, but now he was beginning to move faster, approaching his own release, trying to hold himself back until she could find her own satisfaction. He could feel her hands, her strong slender fingers on his back, and then she stiffened and began to tremble and quake and he felt her nails dig into his back, likely drawing blood. And now, he allowed himself to let go, feeling himself empty out, as he was abruptly brought to his fall and collapsed upon her.

Belle liked this Gold. He was more human in these moments than he was at any other time, she had decided. Just a man. Like any other.

But more so.

At least to her.

She raised her arms to trace her fingers in his hair. She knew he was struggling to regain sensibility. He had to pull out and remove the condom, but he clearly did not want to leave her.

"Belle," he whispered. "beautiful. You're so beautiful." He kissed her on the chin and finally managed to roll away from her turning onto his back.

She was able to sit up and at that moment she was able to look down on him. "That was extraordinary, Bobby." She stretched and sighed. "But you were right the first time. We do both have a busy day ahead of ourselves."

"Chipmunk that you are, you go ahead and start then," he told her. "I need to give it a moment."

She looked down at him, lying with his eyes closed, the sheet wrapped around him. He was about to drop off back asleep.

_Well, the man had been up most of the night before last and had been going nearly non-stop for more than twenty-four hours. He was probably exhausted. _

_She realized that he was a good deal older than herself, likely twice her age. He usually kept up with her but the. . . uh, recent events could have tapped his reserves. _

She decided she would let the man sleep. She crept out, grabbed another shower, watered the plants, went by her own apartment and fed the cats. She checked her phone. No messages. She picked up Gold's phone.

Curious. She knew she had never seen the man recharge his phone. They'd been together a week and he'd never recharged it. She'd sometimes have to recharge her during the day, it sapped so much power. She picked his phone up. It had about three-quarters of its battery. She abruptly put down the phone. She felt like she was snooping.

_How was he doing that? It must be some type of prototype. _

Before leaving her apartment, Belle looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She didn't look different. Somehow she thought she should. She stood a moment.

_What was she to him now? His girlfriend? His mistress? What was it he had called her, a wanton slut? She so wanted to go back upstairs and jump on the man. _

_And for how long would she have this? _

_He was only here for a few more weeks. _

No, no, she wouldn't think about that. She had learned to accept what life gave her. To enjoy herself in the moment, because you never knew what tomorrow would bring. Tomorrow, well, hopefully tomorrow would take care of itself.

OoooooooooooOoooooooooooO

Ruby was already in the shop, showing Wendy what to do at the coffee bar. As soon as Belle came in, Ruby looked up.

"Finally!" she said, looking Belle up and down. Ruby went back to what she'd been doing, quizzing Wendy on how to make different drinks, where things were and health code procedures. Wendy was indeed a quick learner.

Ruby called over to Belle, "OK, I think she's got it, Belle. I'm off to _Pins and Needles. _Keep me in the loop if there are any updates." She handed Wendy a hideous apron replete with large ants on a picnic tablecloth pattern, which the younger woman put on.

Belle took a few deep breathes. Emma had not come by yet, so she would need to show Wendy what to do with the pastries once they came in.

"How is Mr. Nolen?" Wendy asked.

"No fresh updates, so I'm assuming there's been no change. We're hoping he'll get moved out of ICU today."

"Any idea about who did it?"

Belle shook her head. "Maybe, I don't know." _No one had talked about that. Did they have any ideas? James was well-liked, but he was still a political figure and no one was universally loved. Was it a disgruntled constituent? Was it random?_

Belle focused on tidying things up. She had gotten all the recent shipment put out. She'd gotten pretty much cleaned up from the Saturday night reading. The roses were getting past their prime. She re-cut the stems and re-arranged them, throwing out a few of the blossoms that had faded.

Emma stopped by delivering pastries. She looked closely at Belle. "So? Finally?" she asked.

Belle blushed. "Yes, finally," she admitted.

"Was he any good?"

Belle was embarrassed. "Emma, I don't feel. . ."

"Oh come on. We've all been rooting for you two. I mean, I don't know what you see in him, but you obviously see something. Personally, I think the man is as aggravating as hell. But you're my friend and I want you to be happy. So was he any good?" she re-asked her question.

"As improper as I think that question is, he was excellent," Belle answered reluctantly.

"Well, da-amm. I guess there is something to be said for experience. I'm glad he didn't disappoint."

"He didn't disappoint," Belle confirmed.

"Sent you flowers yet? How about jewelry? A car?"

"I'm not expecting anything," Belle had a sudden thought. _Oh lord, was he going to be tempted to go totally overboard here and send her a bunch of stuff?_ _That would be so like him. _She had the urge to call him and caution him.

But then, if he wanted to buy her something, it was with the best of intentions. It was his way of showing his feelings. She should try to accept any gifts from him graciously. They came from his heart.

She closed her eyes. She would just have to hope for the best. And some restraint on his part.

000olooolo000

Gold stretched. There was light streaming through the window.

_How the hell late was it? Damn it, he'd fallen asleep. Belle had probably thought he was doing him a favor and allowed him to sleep. _

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. The bed still smelled like Belle. . . and sex. There was a dark stain on the sheets that gave testimony to his actions from the past night. No, he hadn't dreamt it, not any of it. _She'd been a virgin! How had that happened? A beautiful woman like that? _He rose and stripped off the bed sheets. He stuffed them in the washing machine, jumped in the shower and then quickly dressed himself.

It was nine o'clock. He would have time to make it to his yoga class, but he thought he might be more useful in one of the shops.

And he hadn't had his coffee.

And he wanted to get Belle a token.

But what?

Flowers, jewelry, a car? What to get the woman who felt she already had everything she needed? He suddenly remembered something and went into the living room. He rummaged around in one of the drawers and found what he was looking for. _Perfect._

00000ooooo00000

Belle was checking out a customer when he made it down to the bookstore. He went behind the counter and waited patiently until she was finished, before pulling her close for a kiss.

She looked behind him and around him.

"What are you looking for?" he had to ask her.

"I was afraid you'd come in with a truckload of flowers. . . I see you practiced restraint."

He looked down.

"Oh no! What did you do?" she asked him. _Be gracious, be accepting, she told herself._

"I actually picked these up a while back and I was waiting for the right time to give them to you," he confessed, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a small package. "I think this morning is an appropriate time."

She was hesitant but curious about the gray package he held out to her. She began to unwrap it but quickly saw that it was actually a plastic grocery bag simply twined around a cardboard base.

It was from Walmart.

She opened it up and inside, on the cardboard, there was a pair of silver-toned, dangly earrings, very much in her style.

"I saw them when Emma took me to Walmart and they reminded me, very much, of you. I never quite got around to giving them to you. I know you are uncomfortable with expensive gifts," he was smiling, "Well, these are whimsical trifles that I hope you will accept as tokens of my deep appreciation and. . . affection."

Belle was laughing, "I think I can accept these without feeling like I've sold myself." She took them out of the card they were fastened onto and, taking out the ones she had put in that morning, she replaced them with his gift.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Thank you so much. I'll think of you every time I feel these earrings against my neck."

At first he just looked at her. It was taking a moment for the blood to get back up to his brain. "Now," he told her, clearing his throat, "I need your grocery list. While you ladies are working for a living or sitting with injured family members, I'm going to go to the Earth Fare on your behalf and take care of any grocery shopping you need done – and for that matter, I shall be privileged to run any other errands you may need taken care of."

"Well aren't you the gallant one," Belle remarked. "Give me a moment. I'll get you a list."

Gold dutifully waited for Belle's list, getting his long shot to go. He then called Emma who quickly told him she appreciated the gesture, but "no thank you." _She'd seen him shop before._

He pulled out the Lamborghini and went on to the hospital and, after a call, was able to connect with Mary Margaret. James had been moved into a regular room. Finding the room and seeing that James was asleep, Gold insisted Mary Margaret go with him again for some lunch and he got another update while he ate with her.

Mary Margaret looked closely at Gold. "You're looking relaxed," she commented neutrally.

His eyes briefly connected with hers. "I guess," he responded without any additional comment.

"If you were a woman I'd be thinking that you were. . . maybe. . . glowing," she was smiling at him.

"I'm not sharing the intimate details of my relationship with Belle with anyone, even her very good friends," he stated.

"I see," Mary Margaret looked at him. "So, I'm hoping it went really well," she told him.

"Let me get an update on James," he told her changing the subject.

Mary Margaret went along with it. "Well, James apparently was in great shape when he was shot and that's really working in his favor. One small caliber bullet went into his lung. They did surgery and repaired the damage and kept him on a ventilator through yesterday evening. He's off of that now, which is very good news since the ventilator increases the risk of infection. They got him into a regular room early this morning and made him get up into a chair a couple of times to prevent blood clots. He still has a chest tube to drain off stuff but we hope to get rid of that tomorrow. A respiratory therapist has already been in to see him. They aren't setting a date that he can go home, but they've said if he continues to progress, it could be as early as Wednesday, but probably won't be until Thursday or Friday."

"Mary Margaret, this all sounds like good news," Gold told her.

"Yeah, I guess so," she looked somber and Gold was startled, for the second time in the hospital, to find himself confronted with a crying woman. "I could have lost him," she said softly.

This was foreign territory for Gold. A crying women. He knew what to do with a screaming woman, a pouting woman, a manipulative, scheming woman, hell, even a woman bent on murder. But when a woman sat quietly, with tears streaming down her face. . . well, with Emma, he'd felt comfortable enough giving her a hug and hold her; somehow he thought of Emma like she might have been his strong-willed, intelligent (somewhat bitchy) daughter. But Mary Margaret, she was more like your child's very pretty third grade teacher whom you couldn't help but notice but who was totally off-limits.

He compromised and took her hand. "But you didn't lose him," he reminded her.

"We've had such a tough road," she confessed. He made no response.

"My mother died when I was nine," she began.

He put on his best 'listening face.'

"My dad remarried shortly after, a much younger woman, closer to my age than to his."

"You two didn't get along?" he surmised.

She shook her head, "We could have been friends, but she seemed threatened by me. Then, when I was eighteen, my dad died. For a while it looked like it was going to work out between me and my step-mom, but then it began to unravel pretty fast. I felt like I had to leave."

"Had your dad left you anything?" Gold asked, his fiduciary instincts coming out.

"Yes, but my stepmother managed to get all my trust tied up and I couldn't get to it," she took a couple of deep breaths. "I was pretty desperate for a while, knocking around, doing odd jobs, scratching together a marginal living." She hesitated, "I got so desperate that I started stealing. Mainly picking pockets – I would just take the cash and get the wallets returned with all the credit cards and other stuff. I was pretty good. I would target rich guys and get into crowded elevators with them. I was eating pretty well."

"So what happened?"

"Picked the wrong mark," she confessed. "Big guy, nice looking, well-dressed. Looked like he'd never worked a day in his life. Rode up with him in an elevator and pulled a wad of jewelry out of his pocket."

"Let me guess, Mr. James Nolen?"

"You got that right. Now jewelry is hard for a penny-ante crook to get rid of, even if it's really valuable. The fence has to break it up for the stones and you just can't get what it's worth. I was able to get the jewels to some of the trolls that operate in the north side of town."

"But you underestimated Mr. Nolen?"

"Did I ever. He watched the surveillance tapes, began to ask around and within about a week had tracked me down."

"So why didn't he just have you arrested?"

"He wanted to get back one of the pieces of jewelry – his mother's wedding ring. He told me if I would help him retrieve it, then he wouldn't press charges. So. . . "

"You helped him."

She nodded. "Of course. Along the way we got to know each other and he started investigating my situation with my step-mother. A couple of calls from some high-powered attorneys and my money magically re-appeared. I was able to use some of the money to open my store and James and I started seeing each other."

"And you lived happily ever after?"

"Oh lord no. James was actually engaged while all this was going on and when he broke it off, his father was furious."

"And the jilted fiancee?"

"She was actually ok with it. Apparently she had this old flame and had come to realize that James wasn't her One True Love."

"But that didn't make things ok with James's father?"

"Not hardly. He threatened to cut James off, but James had an iron-clad trust from his mother and stood up to his dad."

"And it all worked out well for you two?"

Mary Margaret smiled, "Eventually, until this shooting thing."

"Well, I would have never pegged you as being a felon," he told her, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. "I'll have to be more careful around you."

"Oh, I don't think I would have ever picked you as a mark. You exude an air of 'danger.' I would have given you a wide berth."

Gold considered. He didn't know this about himself, although he often sensed that people would frequently step out of his way and allow him to pass through. _Interesting._

"Now, you tell me about how you and Milah got together and what happened?" she asked him.

He hesitated, but then shrugged. _Better this conversation than the details of his night with Belle. _"She was the most beautiful woman within twenty blocks, probably twenty miles, of my home grounds. Not a native, certainly not a Scot. She was the most exotic, desirable, exciting female potentially available to my circle of friends. I was up and coming at the time. I had risen in my little group to the effective rank of lieutenant. Everything looked like it was all coming my way, but then one of my best friends was shot and killed. I began to think about how things were really going. Most of my friends were ending up dead or in jail. And I began to realize that I was in a high risk line of work with little chance of advancement and a likely dark, undesirable ending. I decided to get out."

"And you did?"

"It wasn't easy. I got jumped at one point and pretty seriously beaten up. Hell, I was shot a couple of times. Left me with a limp. I got much more careful after that, I can promise you. But I also started going back to school, earning my business degree. I got a couple of legitimate jobs to pay the bills, but we didn't have anything left over. Milah didn't share my vision. She thought that I was giving up a sure thing sticking with the crime family and I guess that was when things started to get strained between us.

"By the time I bought my first building and money had started to come in, we were often at odds. But. . . uh. . . one of the times we did. . .ah. . . connect, Bae resulted. I had thought that the child would fulfill something within Milah and things actually were a bit better for a while. Then I upended everyone and we moved to Cambridge for a couple of years."

"Cambridge University?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Cambridge, Massachusetts, I went to Harvard Law."

"Wow, and here I just thought that you were a savey businessman. I didn't realize that you had gone to Harvard Law. Does Belle know that?"

"No, I think she can handle a lot about me but finding out that I'm a lawyer just might put her over the edge. I can't risk that," he spoke in all seriousness.

Mary Margaret laughed at him. "Perhaps you're correct."

Gold sat eating with Mary Margaret. There were no additional confessions forthcoming. He escorted her back to James's room. James was awake and lucid. He smiled at Mary Margaret and then noticed Gold.

"Took her for lunch?" he asked.

"I did. We're all trying to convince her that she has to take care of herself to take care of you."

James nodded, "Thanks. I can support that," James told Gold. "I really appreciate this."

"Doing all right?" Gold asked him.

"Really, all things considered, quite well. I've been up a couple of times and I got a short walk around the ward. The respiratory therapist has been in hassling me, but I do feel better when I do my exercises."

Gold looked him over, "You look good. Anything anyone can do for you?"

"Mary Margaret's already told me how much her friends are pulling together to help with her shop. Right now, nothing I can think of. Do appreciate you encouraging her to eat – she would stay here thirty-one if she could."

Gold had to ask, "Thirty-one?"

"Twenty-four, seven,"

Gold nodded. He made one last check in with Mary Margaret, but she was fine for groceries and had no other items that she was needing. She'd keep him in mind if something came up. Before he left, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you, you've been a good friend," she smiled at him.

"Hey. watch that," James called from the bed. "Making sure she gets lunch is one thing, but making time with her, especially right in front of me, is not good for me to see," James admonished Gold.

Gold smiled back at him, "I'm flattered, you think I could handle her and Belle?"

"Hell, I'm impressed that any of us can manage any of these women."

"Point and match," Gold responded. "I'm on my way," he nodded to the couple and went on out to run his errand for Belle.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0O

Earth Fare went well. He was proud of himself, finding everything on Belle's list. He also had decided to take the opportunity to shop for Girls' Night In. He decided to go in the direction of salty snacks for this get-together (rather than the chocolate he'd allowed them to indulge in last week). A nice lady at the store helped him pick out crackers and cheese, and a variety of chips and dips and a bit more fruit. He also picked up some non-alchoholic drinks for the group, mindful of the pregnancy issues.

He assumed the women would be getting together, even with James's situation. In his own opinion he thought the fun evening would be just what everyone needed.

Back to the apartment, he unpacked the groceries. He ordered supper from Jefferson's. Tonight's dinner was a veggie pasta baked with mushrooms, bell peppers, red onion, spinach and garlic tossed in a hearty house-made marinara and 'cheezy' sauce. There were garden salads and ciabatta bread on the side.

He was waiting for Belle.

She came in. As soon as she saw him, she dropped her eyes. "I've been thinking about you all day," she confessed shyly.

"That's good to know. I've certainly been thinking about you," he shared.

She quickly wrapped herself around him and began kissing him, "Is this normal?" she asked him.

"Is what normal?" he wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"I feel like I'm in junior high and I have my first boyfriend. I'm finding myself thinking about you all the time, remembering, remembering how it felt to have your hands on me, how . . . " she looked away from him and lowered her voice, "it felt to have you _inside_ of me." She looked back into his eyes, "Is what we have special?"

He gave her a small smile, "Belle, I've never felt about anyone like I feel about you. Yes, yes, I think what we have is special," he agreed.

She glanced at their suppers. "The food will reheat, right?" she asked him.

"Assuredly," he responded. And first he retrieved a condom wrapper from his back pocket, then he sat in a chair, reaching up under her skirt to remove her panties. Holding them in his hands, he brought the white undergarment to his nose and smelled it. He rubbed the cotton panties between his fingers. "You're wet," he told her bluntly, relishing the delicate scent of her arousal.

She covered her face, "Please, that's embarrassing."

"Should I be embarrassed when you can see that I'm interested in you, aroused by you? I'm not. And finding out, knowing you want me, Belle, it's really quite flattering. To know you want me so much, that you're already ready for me and I haven't done anything but kiss you," he reached up and pulled her down to straddle his lap, raising her long skirt so that it puddled behind them and around her waist.

Bravely, she reached down between them and unfastened his jeans, fumbling but quickly locating his rapidly engorging cock, which she managed to free from his boxers. She wrapped her fingers around him and reveled for a few moments in the strength and power he was ready to give her.

He handed her the wrapper and she tore it open. But then, she let her fingers trail up and down him, feeling the hardness and the heat. She kissed him on the mouth before she pinched the end of the condom and finally rolled it down his length. She then lifted herself up and with his hands on her hips guided herself onto him, gently impaling herself. Almost immediately, she shuddered and cried out softly against his chest.

"Belle?" he questioned. "That was quick."

"I guess I was pretty interested before I got here," she confessed into his chest.

"Well, we'll just have to see if we can't let you get 'interested' at least once more before we're through," he promised.

He managed to peak her interests twice more before interesting himself.

000000000000

Their suppers were cold but a quick re-warming in the microwave took care of things and they got a late supper. Belle helped clean things up while he watered the vegetables. She gave him a lingering kiss and there was a long moment that he wished he were a younger man and could deliver his services a bit more frequently. She retired to his bedroom.

He sat in the garden while he counted his cigarettes. Eight left. He got up to join his brave, wise Belle.

Fifteen days down, twenty-seven to go.

**A.N. I certainly thank everyone for their kind comments (and best wishes for my dicey health condition) (hey, I'm ok today, that's all I can ask for). **

**Glad that people enjoyed The Coffee Machine Gambit and approved of Belle turning out to be a virgin (I did debate going in this direction. Of course, now it ****seems like she may be a bit of a slutty ex-virgin. I guess we're all ok with that considering with whom she is spending all her love). **

**As always thanks to my constant (remarkable) reviewers (and their insightful, helpful and just plain nice comments): AlexandraBelleRose. Grace5231973, Estrany, Raspberry Not Pink ,**** juju0268, ****cheesyteal'c, Stargate533, The Prince's Phoenix, Leafena, Just 2 Dream of You, TcEm, Tinuviel Undomiel, Attracted2Insanity, The Auburn Girl, thedoctorsgirl42, Aletta-Feather, makaem, NicoleMuenchSeidel, Hermitess, Ying-Fa-dono, and Vacumatic (who made the 300****th**** reviewer! – if I was allowed to have alcohol I would have partaken in a celebratory imbibement).**

**And a special thanks to new reviewers: Samzi (Guest), maizeblue7, and anonymous****(Guest) (who reviewed Chapter 12).**

_Next: Gold gets a message from Peter _

_Gold gets a phone call from Bae _

_Gold manages a little 'business' _


	16. New Reveals

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 16**

**More Reveals**

He had awakened Belle.

"Sweet, sweet, my sweet girl," he was nuzzling her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"You awake?" he asked.

"Now I am," she slurred her answer, still more asleep than awake.

"Good," he was unapologetic.

He turned her over onto her stomach.

Sleepy as she was, she still managed to protest, "No, no, no! You're supposed to tell me what you're going to do."

But he was on top of her, putting his hands under her hips and lifting her up so that she went onto her knees.

"I'm trying a new position," he told her.

"But wait," she told him. "I don't understand. What are you doing?" She was more awake now and pushing ineffectually against him but she couldn't get any leverage.

He lifted her rear end up but kept her shoulders pressed down onto the bed. He delicately traced his fingers around her hind quarters, teasing her, rousing her. One hand reached around to massage her in her most delicate areas, at the juncture between her legs. The other hand he slipped under her and he placed onto one of her breasts to hold, to tease and caress her. He was leaning over her and she felt almost as if he had swallowed her, wrapping himself around her. She was more than a bit frightened and had to remind herself that she trusted this man.

He wouldn't hurt her.

He might drive her crazy, but he wouldn't hurt her.

She didn't think he would.

"Think you're ready," it was a statement, not a question and he quickly slipped on a condom and entered her.

"Ow, not so comfortable," she managed to tell him, trying to separate her legs more to accommodate him. "I don't think I like this," she told him, wiggling her rear in an attempt to ease the insistent pressure.

"I'll go slowly," he promised. And so he did, allowing her time to adjust, to accept him. He proceeded to slowly pump against her all the while keeping an arm wrapped around her, allowing him to press his fingers against her mound, slipping them into her folds as she became increasingly excited.

The double stimulation he was providing began to create feelings she had not had before. The sensations were intensified, ever increasing, as if some core pleasure center was being pummeled from two sides. By now, he had pressed his entire length into her and she found herself pushing back onto him as he pushed forward. She found herself rocking back and forth against him, trying to attain something, something, something she didn't understand.

Just as his movements were slow, the feelings were slow to begin. . . it was as if something inside of her was coiling and rolling and tightening. By now, he had placed his fingers directly on her clit and she cried out, the intensity nearly too much for her. For a moment, he stopped his thrusts, allowing her to accept his touch. He held his hand still. But she couldn't stop her own movements. As she rocked back and forth, she found that she was rubbing herself against his hand. It couldn't get any tighter inside of her. The pleasure was greater than anything she had felt before. And growing. He began to move again, his pace increasing, faster and harder.

It was too much.

_Too much._

Whatever had wound up tightly inside of her kept tighting and tighting.

She was not expecting it to happen. It was as if whatever was wound up inside of her suddenly sprang open, reverberating and echoing inside of her. She heard herself scream into the pillow. Her entire body shook as she convulsed, the force of her orgasm breaking over her like an enormous wave. She felt herself collapsing and was able to keep her position only because of his grip on her hips. It was only a moment before she felt him making one last powerful thrust into her, holding her as he began to spill himself.

He dropped onto her, just barely managing to support much of his weight on his elbows.

"That was pretty intense," she told him, still struggling to catch her breath. She was still shaking and appreciated him hugging her close to him for a long moment.

"Uh huh," he agreed. He spoke roughly, "I think I'm supposed to apologize when I, uh, when I . . ."

"Force yourself on me," she finished for him.

"Yeah, I guess I kinda did it again, didn't I?" He struggled to pull himself away from her and pull himself off of her. He managed to separate from her and, in the process, he disposed of the protection.

Belle had managed to roll over onto her side. "I think I survived," she was smiling at him. "I guess I might have been more eager if I had known what you would be making me feel before it was over."

"If you had known, you might not have come so hard," he told her and she caught a smug smirk.

She slowly sat up, "You think not?"

He was smiling at her, "I think not," he told her. "I think you are a strong woman and, I think that when you give up control, it's very powerful thing."

She considered. "You are a strong man. Would giving up control be a very powerful thing for you?"

He didn't respond. He just looked at her closely through half closed eyes.

He did not answer her and it was a long moment before he pulled himself up to sit by the side of the bed. He slowly trailed his hand down her thigh. "I love it when you scream for me," he told her. "I love it when you shiver and shake and tremble on my touch. I love it when you come apart in my hands and give yourself so completely over to me." He paused another moment, "I love knowing there has been no other man in your life, that you've given yourself to me and only to me." He turned away, "That's probably not very forward thinking on my part, but it's how I feel."

She smiled at him, "You know, I never set out to wait until the right man came into my life, but I am so glad now that it happened as it did." Belle caught his face in her hands and gave him a full kiss on the mouth. "I never imagined that a man could make me feel as you do. I love it, too."

They were each locked in the gaze of the other, both afraid to say anything more, anything else. They lay back down together and went back to sleep.

000000ooooo000000

Wendy was there to greet him (wearing one of Ruby's atrocious aprons – this one looked like a road map complete with cars with eyes in the place of their headlights and big smiles in the place of front bumpers). She grinned at him and began to fix his coffee. Gold kept an eye on her, but she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She selected the coffee, put it through the grinder and brewed the coffee, adding in the espresso shots as Ruby and Belle had taught her.

"We've got apple scones and cherry scones and blackberry scones," she pointed out to him. He took a blackberry one and sat at 'his' table with the black cat coming over and keeping him company. Belle came out of the back room, saw him and immediately brightened up.

She came over to see him and gave him a quick kiss. She sat down by him. "What's on tap for today?" she asked him.

"Do you need any help here?" he asked first.

"Wendy's doing a great job. Check with Ruby and whoever is there from _The Tudor Rose_ group." She hesitated. "You may want to bring them coffee and some treats – they can be cranky if they don't get their caffeine," she warned him.

"I can't imagine," he told her, his face all innocence.

"Yeah right. If they don't need anything, you will probably want to check in with Mary Margaret. When I talked with her last, she was still up-beat, but said they weren't any closer to finding out who had done it or finding a motive. I guess they still think it's random."

"Uh huh," Gold responded neutrally. _He wasn't in a position to share Emma's suspicions. _"Well," he said, "I guess I'll visit _Pins and Needles_ and see what's happening. I'll keep you posted if I'm in a position to bring lunch in. And I do want to check in with Mary Margaret to be sure there's nothing I can do there."

Gold stopped by the coffee bar before leaving the book store to pick up a carafe of coffee to take to _Pins and Needles. _He was surprised when Wendy leaned over and whispered, "Peter wants to see you sometime today. He told me to tell you he had news for you."

"Well, hopefully we'll connect – I don't have a tight agenda today," he told her.

He went on around to the shop next door.

Ruby was sitting, bored, behind the register. The huge white bunny was stretched full out on the counter top. Ruby was reading a romance novel. She looked up, saw him, and brightened.

"Hello, Mr. Cash," she called out to him. He came on into the shop.

"Everything ok here?" he asked her.

"Mr. Gold?" he heard a familiar voice and turned. It was Nurse Lucas.

"You're one of the _Tudor Rose_ group?" he asked, recognizing the competent woman who took his readings once each week.

"I am. This is my granddaughter. I take it you already know Ruby?" she asked him.

"I do, from Miss Belle's shop."

Ruby had come up. She had caught the different name her grandmother had used. "Mr. Gold?" she asked.

He dropped his head and shook it, "Ruby, my real name is Robert Spinner, but many people call me Mr. Gold."

"The fazillionaire? You're Mr. Gold! Does anyone else know this?"

He looked slightly embarrassed, "Belle, Emma, and Mary Margaret and, of course, your grandmother, here."

"Granny!" Ruby addressed her grandmother. "This is the rich client you have to see once a week for blood tests?"

Ms. Lucas just smiled, hemmed in by privacy constraints, so Gold spoke up. "I don't know if she has more than one rich client that she has to see, but I'm certainly one she does see," he admitted.

"Get out!" Ruby shouted. "So you _are_ GaPOz. Wow! How long has everyone else known? Oh, don't tell me, I'll just be depressed they were able to keep a secret from me – they're usually such blabbermouths."

Gold cleared his throat, "Well, I just came by to see if you needed any help, but it looks like you're on top of things here."

As he was about to go out the door, Ruby asked, "Do I call you Mr. Gold or Mr. Cash?"

He shook his head. He really hadn't thought this through. "I guess, stick with Mr. Cash. Or Mr. Gold. I don't guess it matters anymore."

He went on out and began his walk. He had made it down to Lexington Avenue when Peter Banning stepped out from one of the side streets.

"Mr. Cash," he greeted the older man.

"Mr. Banning. I understand that you have news for me."

"Yes sir, they're back."

"More than one?" he asked.

"At least three different ones. These men seem to be a lot more . . . talented than the first one we got rid of. They have nicer equipment. They're a lot more careful, more subtle. It took us awhile to be sure they were actually taking pictures."

"But they are? You are sure?"

"Quite sure, sir," Peter responded. "And. . . "he hesitated.

"Yes?" Gold waited.

"They seem to be particularly interested in Miss Belle."

Gold felt a white crest of anger swell up inside of him. _Belle, someone was trying to get something on Belle. Not to hurt her, he was sure. No, this was somebody's convoluted way to come after him._

"Good job, Peter. Do you think you could deliver a message to these three?" he asked.

"I can certainly try. What do you want me to say?"

"Tell them that I'd like to have lunch with them today. Say twelve o'clock at The Early Girl Eatery?"

"Yes sir," Peter nodded and was quickly gone.

Gold made a call to the restaurant (for table reservations) and another one to Belle (he wouldn't be able to come there with lunch today) and continued his walk.

As he was nearing the French Broad Co-op, he got an unexpected phone call. It was Bae.

"Bae, what a pleasant surprise," he told his son.

"How are you doing, dad?" Bae asked him.

"Fine. And, yourself?"

"Recovering from a headache."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Well, she's gone now, but I'm afraid she may be coming your way," Bae explained.

Gold considered. _She_ could be one of several women.

"Tell me more," he asked Bae.

"Cora Hart," Bae explained and added. "She came and spent an hour with me, hammering away, trying to find where you are."

"Of course, you didn't tell her."

"Of course not, dad. But. . . I think she already knows where you are and she was wanting to see if I would confirm or deny it. She kept going on that she knew you'd had a breakdown, that you had gone into hiding rather than rehab. Then she pretended she was sooo concerned about you and all that you're going through."

"Sounds like my Cora," Gold said, tightly. "What do you think she's up to?" he asked.

"She said that she was feeling the need to take a break herself. She said," Bae paused. "She said she thought she might want to vacation in some nice little southern town."

"Oh shit," Gold said. "Well, it's a free country. If she comes here, she comes here. I'm not sure what her game might be. I'll be keeping a look out for her."

"You know, I'm hoping I'm wrong about this, dad," Bae told him.

"I know. You're not calling me because you wanted to share this news."

"I knew you'd understand. Er. . . while I've got you on the phone, how is your little romance going?"

Gold couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Very well, Bae. I think you'd like her, a lot."

"Is she going to be my new mommy?" Bae asked.

Gold laughed in spite of himself, "I don't know about that Bae. We're both wanting to move things slowly." He thought about it a moment and asked, "But you'd be ok with a hot young step-mother, wouldn't you?"

"If she makes you happy, dad, go for it." Bae gave him his blessing.

They hung up.

_Damn! Cora! _

He'd met her early on in his career. She was maybe ten years older than himself but quite an attractive woman, known for her incisive, shrewd business nous, her elegant fashion sense and rich, red lipstick and. . . for her voracious appetites. When their businesses had first collided, she had propositioned him. She liked his style, she appreciated his business acumen, she admired his tight ass - which she had grabbed at one point while they were hammering out one of their early deals. He was stunned by her actions and, taking advantage of his surprise, she had managed to plant a firm kiss right onto his lips.

But he was still trying to make things work with Milah and he had delicately, but firmly turned her down, disengaging her arms from around him and stepping out of her circle of influence.

She was not pleased.

He had thought she would have moved on. _He hadn't thought that he was all that much of a catch anyway. _

_(And what the hell did Belle see in him, anyway?)_

But Cora hadn't moved on. Apparently, no one had ever told her 'no' before. There had been a few other times, much later on when it was apparent that his marriage had well and truly fallen apart.

Just a couple of times.

. . . when he'd told her 'yes.'

He looked at his phone. It was getting on for noon. He headed up to the Early Girl Eatery.

Oooo0000oooo00000ooooO

The three photographers found him at the restaurant. They were better dressed than the original peeper. Their equipment was smaller, more subtle, more modern.

They were leery of him and sat down at his table.

"Now, why don't you gentlemen order lunch?" he asked them. "It's on me."

He remembered his previous meal at this restaurant; he had enjoyed the catfish. He decided to order it again, the pan-fried catfish with the cucumber and onion salad (Belle would be pleased) and mashed potatoes. He didn't notice what the photographers had ordered, but then he really didn't care.

They kept eyeing him but apparently didn't think he was likely to shoot them down in full view of the other restaurant patrons. Obviously nervous, they did all manage to go ahead and order. None of them were honorable enough to refuse a meal from an enemy. _Never take anything your enemy gives you. Was that Machiavelli or Sun Tsu? _He had no respect for any of them.

He spent his time waiting for the food closely watching them. He didn't speak. One was prone to fidgety mannerisms, twisting his hands together as if he was washing them. Another kept looking around, as if he expected someone to jump out and confront him. The third kept wiping his hands on his pants. Yes, all were quite nervous.

The food came and he began to eat, enjoying the catfish, a new taste he'd acquired since coming to Asheville. After a moment the three men also began eating.

No one spoke during the meal.

As he was finishing up, he asked them, "How much?"

"Sir?" said one of them.

"How much do you want?"

"I'm not sure I understand," one of them said. The three men were looking back and forth at each other.

"I'll spell it out. You've got a buyer or you wouldn't be here. I'm no longer the tabloid fodder I was during the divorce, so someone has specifically sent you here."

The three men shifted in their seats.

"Who's paying you? Who's promised to pay you?"

One of the men shook his head, "I was contacted by someone who said they were an attorney."

"Man or woman?"

"Definitely a man," the photographer replied.

The other two looked at each other and nodded.

"Of course, he didn't give you a name," Gold stated the obvious. _Had it been Regina's flunky, Sidney Glass? _"What kind of money were they talking about?"

"Seven thousand if I got something. . . 'good.'"

"Me, too," spoke up another of the photographers. "He wanted me to try to get nude pictures of the girl or her having sex or being drunk or high." Gold barely managed to disguise his anger.

"Yeah, me too," the third one confirmed.

Gold took a deep breath. "Seven thousand, huh? If you get something? How about you all agree to leave town. I will pay you each ten thousand in cash and you will give me any pictures you already have? A sure thing, gentlemen."

"I'm in," said one of the men, immediately. The other two were hesitant.

Gold held them in his gaze, the same gaze that had cowed board chairmen, multi-millionaires, and ranking military officers. "Tell your lawyer 'friend' that I threatened you and scared the hell out of you. Hell, tell him that Homeland Security paid you a visit and 'suggested' you leave, I could arrange that if you needed it to happen," he added darkly.

"I'm in, too," said another one of the trio. The third one held back.

Gold looked at him, "Well?"

"Just ten thousand?" the man said.

"You aren't going to get any compromising pictures of the young woman. You will spend weeks here and won't get any money at all from your mysterious lawyer friend. Take what I'm offering and you're out of here, ten thousand dollars richer."

The third man continued to hesitate, but looking at the other two and then back at Gold, he finally nodded.

"I don't think I have to explain what will happen should you gentlemen fail to give me your pictures or you sell anything you've already gotten to your would-be employer?"

They all shook their heads.

"This is how this will work. You will give me an address in a city far, far from here. I will have a pre-paid debit card sent to my representative in that city. You will have to go to see this representative, then hand over your memory cards, in person, to get the debit card." Then he added, "Of course, there is also a small no-disclosure agreement you'll be required to sign."

The three men looked at each other. Gold thought they all bore an amazing resemblance to rats. Somehow it seemed fitting.

He smiled at them, "Now, gentlemen, call this number," he handed them each a plain white card with a long-distance number on it, "to make arrangements. I have another errand but I will talk with the cashier to take care of your bill here." He rose and left them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He walked back to the garage and took the little yellow Prius out. The hospital was not far. And, sure enough, Mary Margaret was still keeping a vigil by James's bed.

When he dropped by, she immediately looked up. "I did get lunch," she told him quickly.

"I'm sure you did," he said kindly. "James, how are you doing," he addressed the patient directly.

"Up twice today, saw the respiratory therapist, not liking how the antibiotics they've got me on are affecting my digestive tract, and I'm missing even Jefferson's food. They're talking about sending me home Friday."

"That's excellent. Mary Margaret, your shop seems to be holding together quite well. Anything I can get for you two? Bring you anything special to eat?" he asked James.

"You can talk Mary Margaret to going to Girls' Night In tomorrow night. I will be fine and I think it will be good for her."

"Oh James, I wouldn't feel right leaving you," Mary Margaret protested.

"You will make me feel better if you go," James told her.

_Gold realized that these two had had this discussion before. James was right. He recognized that the man didn't want his ailment to drag Mary Margaret down. He wanted her to take some time for herself, to have her life go on with some semblance of normalcy. _

He moved in to support the other male in the room. "It's one evening, Mary Margaret. Keep your cell phone on and if there's a problem, I'll bring you right back here. I certainly don't have anything invested in watching my ex-wife prance around with her young, handsome lover."

James turned his blue eyes on his wife, "Please, Mary Margaret. I really want you to do this."

The woman looked from one man to the other, "All right. For that one evening," she gave in, surrendering to the double assault. She leaned over to kiss James. James caught Gold's eye and gave him a quick thumbs up.

0000000000o000000000

Nurse Lucas had come by for his check-up.

He remarked, "I thought this was supposed to be random, but aren't you just coming by on Tuesdays?"

"Actually if people think it's random, they don't expect me to be on a regular schedule. Now, you'll have to decide if I will actually be random or if I will keep to the regular schedule. No way for you to know," she told him with a slight smile, checking his blood pressure, drawing blood and handing him the little cup and the brown paper bag.

When he returned, she remarked, "Dr. Hopper's very pleased. What's the cigarette count?"

"I'm doing less than ten a day," he told her.

She wrote this down. "Have you thought about quitting?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he admitted, "thought about it. I'm still working on the pain medication and the alcohol. I don't think I could add a third thing to work on."

Nurse Lucas nodded in understanding, but then she said, "It's all the same thing, Mr. Gold. It's all the same thing." She collected her equipment and went on out.

He considered what she'd said.

_Maybe she was right._

_. . ._

_She was right._

00000ooooo00000

He'd already showered by the time Belle got in. And counted his cigarettes. Eight left.

_Maybe he should be trying to quit smoking._

He shrugged. _Maybe. _

Jefferson had sent up some thick homemade tortillas filled with his special black bean mixture and his spicy slaw. Gold planned to serve some of his Ingles' beer with the meal. _So much for giving up alcohol. _

_Well one beer wouldn't hurt._

"Maybe we should eat first tonight," she suggested.

"Whatever the lady wishes," he told her. _He was in no hurry. She would come to him when she was ready. And she would be ready soon enough._

They shared the simple meal and each drank a beer. Gold was unimpressed with the beverage and recognized he had been spoilt by the occasional bottle from Jefferson's.

"Do you know that sometimes I feel that you are like a spider," she told him as they were finishing.

"I've been compared to worse," he answered.

"Well, it's like you never sleep. You're always poised. I can sneak up on a cat, which is not easy, but I don't think I could ever sneak up on you."

"Why would you want to?"

"Surprise you," she was trying to be pleasant and playful.

He shook his head, "The last time anyone sneaked up on me, they managed to get a gun to my head. I resolved to never have that happen again."

"OK," she said, a bit subdued. "Well how about a little sneakiness," she said and he flinched, feeling her foot on his leg, inching its way up so that it was on his thigh, carefully making its way onto the inside of his thigh and very gently stroking his crotch.

"A little sneakiness is acceptable," he managed to say, enjoying the tender massage he was getting from her.

"That's nice to know," she smiled at him, but then she froze when she suddenly felt his iron grip on her ankle.

"Do you think you can tease me with impunity?" he asked her. "I believe I warned you about this before."

_She was the tiniest bit concerned. Would he pull her out of her chair and under the table, pulling her over to him? Would he just go ahead and take her right there on the floor. She could tell that his eyes had darkened and knew she had unwittingly ignited his passions. _

_And he wasn't likely to let her go._

He was considering. She had initiated the activity. Perhaps he should let her finish.

He considered.

No. Another time perhaps.

He shifted out of his seat and went down on the floor. Sitting under the table, still holding her ankle and now grabbing her other ankle, he ran his hands up her legs, all the way to her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way. He abruptly pulled her off the chair and she yelped at the sudden move. She was now sitting with him under the table, her full skirt billowing out around her. His hands had moved up to her waist and were working their way up under her top. He had leaned her back, pushing her back down onto the fine carpet. By now he was thoroughly kissing her and his hands had successfully made their way up to her breasts.

"I'm taking off your panties," he told her, reaching down and tugging on the cotton briefs. _He did want to talk her into allowing him to buy her some silken undies. _He unfastened his jeans and pushed them down around his hips, reaching into the back pocket for their protection. It didn't take long to get himself into position between her legs and push into her. She reached around to hold onto him and she wrapped her legs around him. The floor beneath her was unyielding so his thrusts went deep inside of her, pounding, hammering into her. He could feel her fingers desperately holding on to him, clinging to him as if he was the only solid thing, the only worthwhile thing, the only thing in her world.

He was not in a hurry tonight. He kept a slow, steady pace, chuckling when she began to plead with him to come at her harder, faster. He kept his pace slow and steady. Her pleading changed to begging. He continued his slow and steady pace. Her begging changed to crying and where she had been clasping him before, she was now striking him with her fists, shouting at him to hurry, to go faster, deeper, harder. He kept his pace, relishing her growing frustration, her growing need for him.

He heard her call his name, "Bobby, I. . .I. . ." he felt her inner muscles begin to spasm around him and her body jerk under his. Her head went back and her arms relaxed against him.

_So sweet, he thought. So sweet. . ._

And then it was his turn.

He was able to carry her onto the sofa a bit later, his knee had improved to the point that he could manage her slight weight.

"Do we have plans for this Thursday?" he asked her. "With things calming down for James, I didn't know if you were going to again try and show me the sights of western North Carolina."

"Maybe," she answered him. "We could drive down to Dupont. There are a couple of awesome waterfalls there in easy walking distance. Or. . ." she hesitated.

"Yes?"

"It's a bit more of a drive, about two hours, but we could go on to Stumphouse Tunnel. It's in South Carolina."

"What is it?" he asked.

"They were trying to build a railway but got interrupted by a granite mountain which they were trying to tunnel through. The work was completely stopped by the Civil War."

"So?" he wasn't sure about this. "It's a hole in the ground?"

"Well, it's dark and wet and really cold and there are bats, but it's pretty amazing. Different from a cave because it's through solid rock. It's just a long drive."

"Four hours on the road with you?" he questioned. _Sounded like heaven to him. _"Sure, I'm up for it," he told her.

"We'll have to get the right shoes, pack warm clothes and get strong flashlights," she told him. "I've got the shoes and clothes. You'll need different shoes. Your sandals won't do at all. And you'll need a hoodie for the cave. Can you get us some flashlights?" she asked.

"Absolutely." _Woo boy, he could go to Walmart again._

"While we're there we can walk under Isaqueena Falls," she was chattering on. "You'll probably want a camera too."

She entertained him with the history of the area. He heard most of it but kept finding himself drifting away from listening to her words and just watching her expressive face and basking in her joy and excitement.

Sixteen days down, twenty-six to go.

**A.N. I'm planning on backing off (a bit) from the smut here– had just wanted to give Belle a couple of good times in the sack. Right now she's still an easy, eager target and easily manipulated by sex, but I do plan on having her grow and do some experimentation (maybe teach Gold a few things). **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to Lattelady, The Prince's Phoenix, cheesyteal'c, Leafena, TeamTHEFT, Grace5231973, Samzi (Guest), Attracted2Insanity, thedoctorsgirl42, TcEm, Just 2 Dream of You, (anonymous) Guest,**** WastefulWaif, ****Hermitess, DruidKitty, Vacumatic, and to some new reviewers: ctdg, highpockets **

**and narciscia (and I'm trying to get to your stories and send you a review). **

**Ya'll are so nice Thx txm**

_Next: Gold prepares for The Tunnel_

_Wendy makes a suggestion_

_Milah makes an announcement and there are (of course) consequences._


	17. Announcements

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 17**

**Announcements**

Waking up with Belle was proving to be a stimulating experience. As he had anticipated, she was proving to be a lively bed partner. She often would wake him by kissing him on the mouth or licking his ear or trailing her lips, teeth and tongue down his chest. Her fine, delicate hands would often engage his. . . ah. . .interest. She had a gentle touch, sometimes a bit timid, but her curiosity seemed to drive her actions. . . and she was persistent. It was as if she wanted to see if she could affect him. . . arouse him.

She could.

He would allow her to explore his angles and bends. She seemed quite fascinated with his body. And when her touch was followed by her lips. . .

On this morning, he found that he couldn't contain himself and quickly rolled her beneath him.

She was ready for him and he marveled how quickly she responded.

_There were moments of guilt to be sure. She was inexperienced, he knew that for absolutely certainty now. And he was using every technique he had learned from his overtly slutty ex-wife and the few odd liaisons that he had experienced during the latter years of his marriage and thereafter. He knew he was likely taking advantage of her, but, and he was beginning to come to terms with his darker desires where she was concerned - he wanted her bound to him, he wanted her in thrall to him. He cared so much for her and experienced feelings that were foreign to him, feelings that he couldn't deny were something he had never experienced before. . . he thought it might be, he was pretty sure that it could be love, at least the beginnings of love. _

For herself, Belle realized she was caught in a sensuous web. His power over her _and she recognized that he did have power over her_. . . to pull from her the responses that she gave him, it was overwhelming. And she couldn't get enough of the man. Not only at night, but she found herself thinking about him during the day, throughout the day. She found her body coming alive, just being in his presence was enough to cause arousal.

But it wasn't just the sex.

She was fascinated with the man. He was complex with so many layers. There was such a kind, wonderful side to him. He was absolutely brilliant, incredibly insightful. He could take genuine delight in simple things. He loved beautiful things.

But she wasn't a child. She also sensed the darkness within him. She knew angry feelings were difficult for him to manage and that his feelings for his ex-wife ran towards murderous. She knew, at least from reading the odd tabloid, that he could be ruthless in his business dealings.

And there was also the drug and alcohol abuse history – not very far behind him, _maybe not behind him at all for all she could tell._

But she knew, she knew her own feelings.

She was, every day, in every way, falling more deeply in love with this very difficult man.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0O

Gold got his coffee and an herbed scone for breakfast. Wendy was wearing another one of Ruby's aprons – this morning was a lime-green polka dotted ruffled affair that looked like something out of the fifties. The pert little blonde gave Gold one of her pretty little smiles. He sat at his usual table petting the black cat. He watched Belle. She was wearing the silver-toned earrings he had bought for her. From time to time, she would look over at him and give him a brilliant smile. He would smile back.

This was Wednesday. He had decided to go to his yoga class and promised Belle he would bring lunches around later. This morning was a routine one, with the yoga, the smoothie, then his usual walk around town. This morning at about 11 o'clock, he stopped at Tops Shoes to get himself some high-end walking shoes that would be acceptable for walking the Tunnel and, perhaps, another day, doing some light hiking.

He did get one phone call.

The elevator had been fixed.

By now it was lunchtime and Gold had taken another of Belle's suggestions to go to Mela's Indian restaurant. He got the chicken korma with a side of raita for himself. For the ladies, the restaurant kindly put together a mélange of Indian dishes, including Punjabi choli, Madras vegetables, aloo ghobi masala, vegetable biryani and a triple helping of malai kofta (for dessert). He left the restaurant a generous tip and delivered these on to Belle at the bookstore and Ruby at the yarn shop.

He pulled out the little Prius and went on to visit James. Mary Margaret quickly let him know that James was going to be released Friday. Gold let them know about the repaired building elevator. He knew it would help James get back to his apartment. He also offered to help with the move back to the apartment and with a glance at each other, the couple took him up on it. Having a driver would be a great assistance.

He also confirmed that Mary Margaret would be attending Girls' Night In with James's complete approval.

Gold left on out and made a call. He would need a van for Friday morning.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He spoke the address into the GPS and, still driving the little Prius, piloted his way over to the Walmart, not the backways that Emma knew to be sure, but he did find it. He found a parking place, although not quite as good as the one as Emma had found, and, this time, with a new mission, made his way into the behemoth store. He wandered around for awhile, with the awareness that this time Emma wasn't trying to track him down and herd him back into line. He found some high powered flash lights and got some spare batteries. He found a hooded pullover made of sweatsuit material to wear over his t-shirt as per Belle's instructions.

He punched in another address and found a Best Buy on Tunnel Road. He picked up a nice Olympus pocket camera. He considered picking up a camera for Belle but hesitated. She was uncomfortable with him spending money on her, even just a few hundred dollars. _Well, maybe she had her own camera. _

He looked at the little camera and had an idea. He called Cricket and talked with Leroy.

He got safely back to his apartment and looked around. It was neat enough (there was a cleaning company that would come in three times a week and they would vacuum, dust, wipe down surfaces, clean bathrooms and run laundry. There wasn't anything he needed to do to pick the place up for the women coming over that evening. He did decide to have some fresh flowers sent up; he'd found that women were impressed with flowers.

He made a phone call.

He turned on the television and began to see what might be on. He encountered a few talk shows and, what were they called? soap operas. He watched one briefly, fascinated by these very attractive people who clearly had more relationship problems than even he had. He moved on and stumbled into a show that had an amazing product for sale. It was a watering hose that collapsed into a very small area. He thought it would be perfect for the roof garden. They were offering it at a reduced price and for a limited time with free shipping. He called and ordered it.

The show remained on and this time he watched as they told about some shoes that had built in orthotics that would help with posture and back pain. They had different styles. The eighty dollar price tag was considerably more than the twenty-three he had paid for the Walmart sandals, but the hosts promised that these would last much longer and be so much better for him. He considered. They were offering, for a brief time, free shipping on this item also. They were offering one of the pairs of sandals at a deep discount, lower than what you would pay anywhere else and lower than their own usual low price. He picked up the phone and ordered a pair and, as an afterthought, he went back into the bedroom, found a pair of her old shoes, got the size and ordered a pair of blue ones (would match her eyes) for Belle as well. _He might not tell her how much they cost._

The show then switched to cookware. The stuff was pretty and came in a lot of colors.

He began to see a pattern with their merchandising. Many things were offered at presumably deep discounts but only for a limited time, some things were being offered for one time only or wouldn't be offered again for several months. Free shipping was often included. He thought the entire thing was masterfully done but did manage to resist the cookware. He was already well-stocked with such for now.

When the show switched to selling a fancy blender, well, it caught his attention again. Their blender sounded so much better than the Walmart one he had. It could pulverize vegetables and make soup and even ice cream. They had limited supplies of some of the colors. He called and got a black one.

By this time, it was early evening. The flower people had already been by and had distributed the flowers in the living area, the kitchen and even put a small spray in the bathroom. It was then Jefferson who dropped by, bringing up seitan corned 'beef' and cabbage with roasted red potatoes and a salad of tomato, cucumber, pickled beets and watercress with dijon vinaigrette.

Belle joined him. He opted not to tell her what he'd been up to that afternoon (she would smile but he knew that she tended to take a dim view of his easy buying habits). They enjoyed a quick supper and cleared up, waiting for her friends to arrive. Belle helped him get out the cheeses, the crackers, and the fruit. They got out a variety of things to drink, including a number of non-alcoholic beverages for the pregnant, the hope-to-be's and the underaged. Gold suggested a non-alcohol mojito, made with soda water, fresh lime juice, and sweetner. Belle approved. She added a simple punch made with ginger ale and grape juice.

He took a moment and counted his cigarettes. He had lapsed a bit and was pleased to find ten in the packet today. Back on track. Uhmm, maybe he could do better. He opened a pack and took out eleven. This would be his pack for tomorrow.

The women began to arrive at seven. Wendy had also been invited for the first time and she sat shyly along the fringes of the group. He watched as Belle pulled her further into the center of action.

"How long have you been singing?" Belle asked the girl.

"Not long. Peter heard me singing to myself and urged me to go on stage."

"How about the dancing?" Belle asked.

"Oh that. I've been dancing for as long as I can remember. I had lessons when I was younger. I really like the old dances. Hey," she glanced at Gold. In her soft, clear voice she announced, "We need to teach Mr. Cash how to shag."

Gold blanched.

He had faced down some pretty scary types without flinching, but this sweet, innocent young girl had just taken the wind out of him. _She wanted to teach him. . .how to . . .shag?! _He lost any semblance of his all-business face and his face must have shown his discomfort.

Emma and Ruby were audibly laughing at his response, while Mary Margaret was smiling and Belle, taking pity on the man, explained to him that the shag was a dance. . . not what he thought it meant. An six-step dance, easy to learn but a lifetime to master.

He shook his head and pleaded his knee but the women were having none of it. Ruby and Wendy began to dance together with Ruby showing him the man's movements. He partnered with Belle who shared that during Belle Chere there was a dance floor put out in front of their building and a bandstand. The whole thing was devoted to some of these older dances, mostly the shag.

Gold counted one to six, over and over, watched his feet and held Belle's hand while he practiced the easy movements of the dance. Wendy sang "Stand by Me" to give him some background music. The ladies all pronounced him excellent for a beginner.

He sat down relieved. He hadn't danced in. . . well, he'd never danced before.

It was kinda fun.

But he was glad the practice session in front of the gaggle of women was over. He liked them, but he wasn't fond of public performances.

He was almost grateful when Milah's show came on.

Milah quickly let everyone know that she was still involved with preparations for the commitment ceremony. She had her dress picked out and this week, her lover, Mr. Jones, had given her a remarkable diamond and pearl necklace.

"How much did that cost?" Mary Margaret asked.

As if in answer, Jones addressed the camera and let everyone know it had run him four figures, but that Milah was well worth it.

"Where does he get this money?" Emma asked.

Again, Jones shared that he had a major deal about to break which he anticipated making a great impact on his fortune.

"More shady deals huh?" Emma remarked. _She was wondering just what kind of shit Jones was into. As a police officer her antennae had been raised. She didn't trust him._

Milah had several important announcements. She was very excited about her first piece of news. She had been approached by one of the shopping networks to launch a joint venture for her new makeup line. She then began to share the range of products she would have for sale, especially lauding her lipsticks, eyeliners and marvelous mascara.

"Those are pretty colors," noted Ruby.

"Oh come on, you aren't going to order any of her stuff, are you?" asked Mary Margaret. "You know she had some poor cosmeceutical company put stuff together, slapped her name on it and, ta da."

"Yeah, well me buying her stuff benefits the poor cosmeceutical company too, right?" Ruby asked. "That's a knock-out red she's wearing. And her eyeliner always looks fabulous."

Gold watched mutely. Milah was still a fine looking woman. No question there. He was surprised she had enough merchandising skill to put this kind of deal together. She had always been clever, though. With Regina's help Milah could well have engineered this deal.

He shrugged. So what. This was just something else to keep her busy and out of his hair.

It was at the end of the show, that Milah made another of her announcements. She had been looking for a venue for her commitment ceremony. She wanted somewhere different, somewhere unique. Everyone does the beach or some beautiful building or castle. She wanted something no one else had done. Since she and Jones both enjoyed the mountains, _since when? thought Gold_, she had located a lovely place in the south in a town that could accommodate her guests.

"Yes, my lovelies," she addressed her audience. "We're going to a beautiful little town. I've had people there taking pictures. Gorgeous. The perfect venue," she paused for effect and Gold suddenly had a white hot, sinking feeling.

She let the bomb drop, "Asheville, North Carolina. We'll be there next week."

He felt himself begin to simmer. He closed his eyes.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. _Asheville, it was big enough. They wouldn't have to cross paths. He could stand to be in the same state, the same city that she was in._

Milah had paused again. She took a deep breath before launching into her final announcement, "You know I've told you how controlling my dear, dear ex-husband could be," she laughed, "actually always was. Last week, darlings, he contacted me and _ordered _me not to give any descriptions of him, say where he was hanging out and I was definitely not to show any pictures of him. He actually _threatened _me," she smiled demurely at the camera.

"So I won't say anything," she continued, then added, "about him."

By now, Gold had felt his blood beginning to boil.

"I do have some information about his tart-du-jour that I'd like to share. I've had a number of photographers on the job," she looked right into the camera. "You won't be able to frighten or pay them all off, my dear." She smiled and continued, "She's very young, probably half his age, well, maybe half his age. Pretty, I understand she's quite pretty. I'll have to give it to him here, the man does have a good eye for beauty. As for her, what does she see in him? Well, I'm sure his money is an enormous lure."

Belle felt Gold stiffening up next to her as he listened to Milah offer an explanation of her relationship with him.

Milah had the camera come in close and she continued. "Now, I feel sorry for her if she actually cares for him. I know from personal experience that the man can act charming when he wants something. I'm hoping she'll realize what a snake the man truly is and move on. I hoping she's been clever enough to get a few nice jewels, even a car from the tightwad." Milah looked directly into the camera, her grey eyes sparkling. "If you're watching dearie, the man is poison. You can't trust him. He will hurt you. He will lie to you. I know he can be charming and seductive, but he will rip your heart out. He did mine. Get out, get out before he hurts you like he's hurt every woman he's ever been with."

The show faded out. Belle had turned to watch Gold who was sitting silently. He was steaming.

"You know I don't pay her any attention," she said softly.

"She knows about you," he whispered. "That god-damned troll-fucking cunt knows about you! She. Was. Talking. To. You." He stood. He was furious, in a white-hot fury. He stepped away from the seating area and went out to the garden area. Belle followed him. The other women remained sitting quietly.

"He's Milah's ex-husband?" asked Ashley. She was one of the few who hadn't made the connection.

"Oh yeah," answered Emma. "Is he ever."

"What's going on out there?" asked Ruby.

Emma observed, "He's doing a lot of arm-waving and yelling. I'm guessing he's cussin' . . . either in Klingon or Gaelic."

"I'm guessing Gaelic," offered Mary Margaret, getting up and pulling the curtains closed. She turned and faced the group, "This is a private argument, ladies."

"Aww! Come on," Ruby protested. "I was hoping for a serious temper tantrum that I could video and put on Youtube."

"Not tonight," Mary Margaret told her.

oooooooooooo

"Let me make the call, Belle. I can stop this."

"Stop what? She's just trying to stir things up. Look what she's done to you."

"I can't let her hurt you," he said through his teeth.

"What has she done to me? Just told me to take you for what I can and get out."

He closed his eyes and began, "Belle, she's had people in town taking pictures of us! She's trying to get something on you! I wasn't sure before but after her little announcement tonight, I know she's been behind some photographers that have been nosing around."

"So what? They might catch me adjusting my panties, picking my nose. . ."

He interrupted, "You fucking my brains out."

Belle shook her head, "We're both adults, not married to anyone else. We can," she paused before saying the crude word, "fuck as much as we like."

"But your reputation. . ." he began.

"Would be nothing but enhanced," she finished for him. "You are one very hot, very desirable guy. Right now, I suspect the worst that she has are some pictures of us kissing."

He had calmed down a few degrees. "Anything in your background you wouldn't want to get out?" he asked her.

"Let's see. I pay my taxes on time, no parking tickets, paid up student loans," she was carefully considering. "Oh, there is one thing."

"What?" _How bad was it going to be? There was a gay rights protest and she didn't join in? She bought something without a 'made in America' label? She tossed the pepsi can instead of recycling it? She once ate barbequed tofu that turned out to be barbequed pork? _

"I had to take the SAT's twice," she told him.

Gold was familiar with the SAT's. His son had taken them prior to applying to Yale. Now he was confused. Why was this an issue? "Why?" he asked.

"I got a perfect score," she answered him. "They sometimes make people who get a perfect score re-take it under supervision."

He couldn't stop himself, "How'd you do the second time?"

She blushed, "I got another perfect score."

"Congratulations," he told her. "Is that the nastiest thing in your background?"

"Yeah," she told him. "Oh," she had an after-thought, "of course, you know I'm Wiccan, but that's no big deal in this town. Would that be a problem for you?"

"Nah, people already suspect I'm the devil, so having a witch for a girlfriend is . . . no big deal," he repeated her words.

"You will promise me that you won't call her. You won't threatened her or try to get revenge on her."

He huffed and puffed, but (very reluctantly) capitulated, "All right."

Belle kissed him on the cheek. "Don't you know she's expecting your call? She's sitting there waiting for it. Right now. She's probably all set up to record you in a rant." Belle walked around him, then stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "When you don't call her, she'll wonder what you're up to. She'll wonder what you're planning. It'll drive her crazy, the waiting, the not knowing."

He considered. "Belle, you have a dark, devious streak that I had never suspected until now." He had to agree with her, "Milah is undoubtedly expecting my call. When I don't call she'll think I'm planning something big to take revenge. Or, and this, to her mind, would be worse, that I have no interest in what she's up to, that I'm ignoring her."

He kissed her soundly and they held hands to re-enter the living room.

Mary Margaret greeted them, "Well?"

Gold looked at Belle, "We've decided not to make any response. It's not worth it. She's not worth it."

"Pissing contest with a skunk," Emma described it, shaking her head. When Gold looked at her, she explained, "No way to win."

000ooo000ooo000

Once the women had all left out, Gold stood still and quiet for a moment in the kitchen. Suddenly he picked up a glass and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Then, calmly, just as focused, he picked up a second glass and then a third, throwing each one with all his might against the wall, smashing them.

Belle watched passively. _It was his glassware and his kitchen. _

He methodically went through all the glasses, reaching into the cupboards and throwing each one. He then began on the plates.

After the sixth plate hit the wall, joining the pile of glass shards, Belle asked calmly, "Decided you didn't like the pattern?"

"That's not it," he answered, picking up a seventh plate and tossing it against the wall. "I don't like my ex-wife," another plate hit the wall.

"And smashing your crockery. . . ?"

"Is better than smashing her face in," he answered. He stopped for a moment. "Did I ever tell you about my marriage?" he asked. "Did I ever tell you that when Milah would step out of line that I would knock her around some?"

Belle shook her head.

He hung his head. He spoke slowly as if it was painful for him, "I'm not proud of this. In my defense, it was who I was then, it was where I came from. I was a young punk, a thuggie. You weren't a man unless you controlled your woman and beating her was an acceptable response to misbehavior. Whenever Milah did something I didn't like I would slap her, sometimes a couple of times." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I know this isn't much to recommend me, but I didn't do it that often, I never punched her with my fist and I never hit her when she was pregnant." He stood still a moment and then spoke softly, "This is very hard for me to talk about, Belle. To admit that I ever thought that way about women, that I would do that to a woman."

"So Milah has some basis when she says you're poison and that you'll hurt me?" Belle asked.

Gold picked up another plate and smashed it. "She knows I changed." Another plate went against the wall. "I worked hard and I really changed." Another plate flew "I went into therapy. I grew. I learned. I haven't raised my hand to woman in more than fifteen years. I've smashed a lot of glasses and plates, but I haven't hit a woman."

He smashed another plate.

"This helps?" Belle asked him.

"Yeah. I had to go into some anger management therapy awhile back and this is what my good doctor suggested I do. It does seem to help. Cathartic, was how he explained it." The last plate went against the wall.

"You ok with knowing I used to abuse my wife?" he asked her. He stood very still.

"It's been twenty years?" she asked.

"It has," he confirmed.

"You ever have the urge to slap me around?" she asked.

"Oh god no. My urges where you are concerned are strictly carnal in nature," he confessed.

"I know you're not asking me to tell you that what you did was all right or that you expect forgiveness – I can't give you that. I am very glad that you grew and learned some different ways to resolve your anger. Did you apologize to Milah?" she asked him.

"After every time I hit her. When I started having money, I used to buy her things too, jewerly, clothes, furs." He looked at Belle. "Belle, I know I can never make this right. There's no excuse. What I did was wrong. This is part of what makes me a monster."

She looked back at him. "You ever raise a hand to me. . . " she began.

"I never would," he interrupted her, promising.

"You ever do, you better plan on never going to sleep again." She gave him a demure smile and trailed off to the bedroom.

Gold looked long and hard at Belle as she walked away from him. _She was quite the remarkable woman. _

He followed her into the bedroom. "I had Peter Banning scare off one photographer and I paid off three others," he confessed.

She had started to undress. She didn't pause in her actions. She didn't say anything immediately.

"Why do you think Milah's doing this? Sending in the photographers, I mean," she finally asked him.

"Easy, it's to make my life hell," he answered.

"She still wants to hurt you like you hurt her?"

He thought a moment, "I guess."

"Did she love you once?" Belle asked him quietly.

"She told me that she'd never loved me. But she said a lot of things in anger. So did I."

"Did you ever love her?"

"I thought I did. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And she chose me from all the others. I can't imagine why."

Belle looked at him, "Oh, I think I can," she told him softly.

He shook his head _he had no idea what she saw in him – if it wasn't the money – and he didn't think it was the money. _"I think we were mostly happy for those first few years, until I decided to quit the gangs."

"Why would she have been upset with you for that?" Belle was appalled.

"Because the money stopped for awhile. I was going honest. It wasn't easy. Milah wasn't big on delaying gratification."

"You know what?" Belle asked him suddenly.

He waited.

"I'd just as soon not talk about your ex-wife right now." She was gazing at him, her blue eyes clearly showing dark, dilated pupils. "I did want to talk with you about something else."

"Have at it," he replied. _Anything she wanted to talk about was all right with him._

"I'm wondering if I need to call my doctor," she began.

_He wasn't expecting that. _"Because?"

"It's too late for this month but if there is a chance that you will be around more than a month, we might want to be thinking about something besides condoms for birth control. Emma, Mary Margaret and Ruby are all telling me about a couple of other options, but all of them need to be done soon after my period starts," Belle blushed. _She still felt awkward talking about these matters with this man._ "And I missed the opportunity this month." She looked up at him.

He hesitated. _He knew she was asking if he planned to be around after a couple more weeks, if she was just a vacation amusement he was indulging in, if there was any hope, any pretense that they might have a future together_.

He found it a surprisingly easy thing to answer, "I think that is an excellent idea."

She seemed to visibly relax and favored him with a brilliant smile.

He came and sat next to her. "Belle, I really don't know what the future may hold for us. But right now, no matter what I imagine myself doing, where I imagine myself going, you're there. I want you there."

"Really?" it was as if she couldn't quite believe him.

He cupped her face in his hands. "Belle, right now, I can't imagine waking up with you not beside me. I can't imagine you not being on hand if there's a coffee emergency. I can't imagine," and he kissed her, "not being able to bury myself in your heat again. I know that's not romantic or anything, but I'm not a romantic guy."

She kissed him back and he heard her murmur in his ear, "Yes you are."

Seventeen days down, twenty-five more to go.

**A.N. I actually considerably toned down my original outline and references to Gold's contributions to his unhappy marriage, just keeping in the violence (emphasizing that it is part of his past that he can't escape but is _not_ part of his present). I hope I didn't offend or put-off current readers but if the man is striving for redemption he has to have something he is being redeemed from. **

**Special t****hanks to Anonymous Nerd Girl who long ago gave me the idea of having Milah sell her own line of something or another.**

**Thx to all those reviewers: ****ctdg, Leafena, Samzi, Just 2 Dream of You, The Auburn Girl, juju0268, The Prince's Phoenix, cheesyteal'c, Hermitess, makaem, Lattelady, Vacumatic, thedoctorsgirl42, Ying-Fa-dono, and Aletta-Feather. **

**And to new reviewer Andi88 (who has just made it up to the Mt. Mitchell chapter).**

**Special thx to Girlyemma96 (omg girl! 7 'catch-up' reviews!)**

**And to Estrany for private messages on the last chapter. **

_NEXT: Belle and Gold venture into South Carolina into The Stumphouse Tunnel _

_Gold makes a naughty request and _

_Belle gets her hand on something_


	18. The Tunnel

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 18**

**The Tunnel**

She had gotten him up at the ass crack of dawn. He was an early riser himself, but he'd never been happy about it and had had the decency to be silent and keep it to himself. Belle greeted each new day like it was the start of the best day ever. She was chattering away and, oh lord, she was smiling.

Little Miss Sunshine. He remembered that was how he had thought of her that first time they met. A chattering little chipmunk. A gorgeous chattering little chipmunk. But a chattering chipmunk nonetheless.

She appeared to be excited. Oh lord, Belle. . .excited. He wasn't sure he'd survive the enthusiasm.

He'd made some effort to distract her, trying to direct her passions towards himself, but he'd been unsuccessful. So now he was slightly frustrated and he realized just how ineffectual he was in his ability to manage a perked up Belle.

She was excited about the day's adventure to be. They were going to the Tunnel!

She looked at him. "You need coffee!" she pronounced.

_I was hoping to get laid, he had thought to himself. But coffee would help. . . a little. It wasn't as good as sex, certainly not as good as sex with Belle. _

But he did feel good. His confession regarding his past. . .ah. . . indiscretions had not scared her off. His temper tirade had not scared her off. His crazy ex-wife had not scared her off. He'd gotten her on top last night and had thoroughly enjoyed her riding him and none of that had scared her off. Yeah, life was good.

_But he still wished he'd gotten laid this morning._

He glanced over at Belle. If he was going to be frustrated, it might be good to have her in the same boat. He considered a couple of options.

"I'm glad to see you're smiling," Belle told him.

_He hadn't realized that he was. She probably wouldn't be so glad if she knew what he'd been thinking about._

Belle slipped on some long socks and then pulled and tugged herself into some blue jeans. They fit her lovely curves quite well and her little tank top hugged her trim torso and outlined her plump perfect breasts. _He continued to think that her plain white cotton underwear (both panties and bra), was amusing but sad, and he was still trying to figure out some way to get her into lace and silk_. She added the earrings he had given her. She finally added some snug fitting hiking boots. She packed a small bag with a skirt and some slip-on sandals, "in case we decide to go anywhere afterwards," she explained to him. "I want to look nice."

"You look nice," he told her, pulling her to him and giving her a quick kiss on the mouth.

"Aren't you sweet," she told him, holding him longer than was necessary. _He always smelled so good. . . and felt good. . . solid and sturdy. _

She sighed. "Let's go get breakfast," she told him.

He carried the picnic basket she had packed, along with the hoodies and flashlights. She carried a couple of smaller bags, one, he knew, carried her change of clothes _and he suspected a sportcoat for him_, the other, he thought, just might be some knitting. He had charged his new camera and had remembered to carry it also. He directed her to the Lamborghini.

"And where are we going for breakfast?" he asked her.

"Sunny Point Café. Go out on Patton, then 240 and it's the Haywood Road exit. The Café is on Haywood. It's usually crowded but I'm hoping on a weekday we won't have a wait."

"And what can we get there?" he asked, trusting her but still curious.

"Well I get either the breakfast salad or the huevos fucheros when I get out there."

"The huevos what?"

"It's like huevos rancheros with tofu chirizo. They have regular huevos rancheros too and a bunch of other stuff. You'll be fine," she promised him.

He was fine. He did enjoy himself. _Coffee wasn't as good as hers. _

He sat in the restaurant and, as he often did, he watched the other people around them. Belle always seemed oblivious, but he often noticed other men looking at her, then glancing at him, then looking away. _Yes, men, this one is taken. _He couldn't help but enjoy being with the most beautiful woman in the room. And she seemed to enjoy being with him. _Hell, bring on the damn photographers. How bad could it be if there was a picture of him with this glorious woman having breakfast together? He certainly wasn't ashamed to be seen with her. _

He paid, as always leaving a generous tip, and welcomed what had become her traditional kiss when they got back into the car together. He entered the address of the Tunnel and they were off: Interstate 240, a couple of other exchanges and then onto 64, and then onto a series of state roads, eventually to 107, then Highway 28. He had stopped early on to get Belle her Pepsi-in-a-Can. She had forewarned him that once they got passed Brevard, places to stop were few and far between.

Well into the trip, looking at the mile after mile of forested hillsides, he announced, "This is well and truly boonies."

"Yeah, it's very pretty in the fall, the leaves go all yellow and red. Of course if you really want leaves, you go on 176 or 276 or Old 25 or Highway 11. None of those get as crowded as the Parkway," she chattered on.

He glanced over at her. She had pulled a mass of yarn and needles out of one of her bags and she was seriously trying to knit. Each stitch was a concentrated effort. She was working with large needles and some odd looking yarn. She had about eighteen inches completed of what appeared to be a narrow scarf.

"Mary Margaret promised me that if I can get a thousand stitches, which will finish this scarf off, I will have conquered the knit stitch and then she will teach me to purl."

"How long have you been working on it?" he asked.

"Weeks now. I put it up when you came into town," she grinned at him. "You were sooo much more interesting than knitting, so I had put it down."

"Well, thank you," he said.

They rode awhile in silence. He always liked that about Belle. For someone who often chattered, she could also manage silence.

He broke it, "Tell me what did you do with your perfect SAT's?" he asked her.

"Got a full ride to the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill."

"Where you majored in?"

"Library science and information services. I got my master's, I took a summer off in Europe and then inherited the book store."

"You have a master's?" he was surprised. She seemed too young to have already gotten a master's.

"I finished my bachelor's in three years and then went straight through for my master's," she explained. "I mean, I didn't have anything else going on in my life. Not like I had a boyfriend or anything." _She could feel his glance. There was some heat in his gaze._

"No, you didn't, did you?" he was smiling. "Where'd you go in Europe?"

"Off the usual tours. Iceland, Switzerland and Romania and ended up in Paris. Loved Paris. I picked up a bit of a couple of languages, French and Romanian, which are a lot alike and German and Icelandic, which are also a little alike. Now how about you? Where did you go to school?"

_Ouch, it was going to come out now. _

"I did the University of Glasgow and," he hesitated, "then I spent some time at Harvard."

"Get out, what did you do there?"

He hesitated. "I. . .uh. . . I got my. . .uh. . ."

"What? Did you fail out? Did you do something you're ashamed . . . oh my god! You got a law degree?!"

He nodded his head. "Yeah." He went on to explain. "I kept thinking I was being cheated by these attorneys and kept thinking I could do what they were doing. I had some money by that time so I said, hell, apply to the best. And I got accepted."

"Wow, I'm actually kinda impressed. I knew you were a smart guy and all. I guess it's really helped you with all your deal making, huh?"

"Yes it has," he agreed.

"So where all else have you been, I mean, not for school? I bet you've traveled all over."

"A few places," he hedged. "Tokyo, Dubai, Rio, Sidney, Peking, London, New York City, never been to Paris," he admitted.

"So you've picked up a few languages?"

"A little Mandarin, some Arabic. Portuguese, a couple of others."

"Did Milah and your son travel with you?" she asked.

"Milah never did, she preferred to stay at home and whore around. I did take Bae with me on some of the trips. He liked to travel and took to it naturally. We had a good time together."

"Tell me about Bae," Belle asked, wanting to know about this very important person in Gold's life.

"Great kid. Better than I deserve. Went to Yale, which was a bit of blow to me, being a Harvard man and all," he imitated the Boston accent and she laughed.

"Do you think he'd like me?" she asked, a little nervously.

"I think he'll be irritated that he didn't see you first," he answered quickly. "Belle, he wants me to be happy and as long as he thinks you make me happy, he'll like you."

"Really?" she seemed ingenuous.

"Yes, really," he assured her.

Belle seemed happy with his answer and went back to her knitting.

They chatted about odds and ends for the rest of the trip.

Once onto Highway 28, Gold had to concentrate on the winding highway as they neared the Tunnel. The turnoff road down to the Tunnel was a steep, winding road and then it was over a creek and up a short hill to the gravel parking lot. They parked near what appeared to be a wooden tori gate that marked the entrance. Belle slipped on her jacket and grabbed one of the flashlights. He did the same and pocketed his new camera. He took a few pictures of the gate, the old railroad car at the front of the Tunnel and the Tunnel entrance.

They entered the Tunnel walking along the bed foundation for what would have been the railroad ties.

"There are supposed to be frogs in the tunnel," she told him, "but I've never seen them."

They moved along in the darkness. They would pass others coming back out, some dressed for the cold, others in July shorts and sleeveless tee's. Some had flashlights but some did not.

"What's that?" he asked. "I can see a light."

"Yeah, that's the air shaft. The builders decided to build down from the top of the mountain and then blast out in both directions. One part connected with where we're walking and the other went in the other direction. If we keep a lookout we can see where the two came together. The blast lines are going in opposite directions. Pretty impressive engineering for the time – it was pre-civil war," then added, "In the 1850's."

They walked on. The Tunnel was increasingly cold and he was grateful for her suggestion of wearing a hoodie. The darkness was oppressive, even as his eyes adjusted. As they neared the air shaft, he began to feel the spray. He stepped away from the spray and got a few camera shots.

"Oh yeah, it rains here twenty-four, seven," Belle explained. "Has to do with the dampness of the tunnel and the temperature differences between inside and outside."

He looked back and could see the small circle of light which was the front of the Tunnel. Took a picture of it. He could see the water all along their route. He occasionally flashed the light up and would see the mouse-sized bats on the wall. Little brown things curled up and asleep. Took some pictures of those too. No frogs, though.

They reached a brick wall. It was covered with graffiti. Took a picture.

"Clemson University had this sealed up for a while. They used it to make their blue cheese."

"Clemson?" he asked.

"Big college down the road. They would clean our clocks in football, but we could take them down in basketball and SAT scores."

"Blue cheese?" he asked next.

"Yeah, they're famous for it. They've since moved it back to the University."

As they trudged through the door, they lost what little light they had from the front of the tunnel and the air shaft. The darkness became absolute.

"How far back are we going?" he asked.

"About a quarter mile. You'll see what looka like big steps which you can climb and go to the very, very back."

"It's a bit spooky in here," he noted.

"Yeah, a few people have reported seeing a room with a bunch of guys with beards sitting in it. They can't find the room when they look for it again. And a lot of people have heard the sound of machinery. However, you've got to understand, that a number of the visitors are Clemson students who've had a beer. or. twelve. A lot come here to join the Tunnel Club."

He digested this. "Men take women here to have sex with them? Not a place to take a woman you have any respect for," he observed.

"They're students for pete's sake," she retorted. "You've been a student."

"Yeah, but I was already married and I could not ever see taking Milah to a place like this. I couldn't see her going in anywhere with bats or anywhere she's have to walk a half mile that didn't take her to a shoe store or a cocktail."

They got to the back and sat on the rock steps. Gold turned off his flashlight. Belle drew close to him and turned off her light.

They sat in absolute darkness. "This is pretty amazing," he told her. She could feel him nuzzling her.

"You know if I sat on your lap, facing you. . . " she began.

"You aren't wearing a skirt, my dear. I don't think I could get to your good parts without stripping off your pants and I'm not about to do that with the amount of traffic there is in this place," he cautioned her.

She sighed. He could feel her breath against his chest. She was delightfully warm and cuddly, snuggled up against him in the damp blackness. Her light rose scent wafted up to him.

He whispered a quick question to her, "What's the plan when we leave here?" He began to kiss her down the neck.

"We'll get our picnic lunch. Then it's just a little ways over to Isaqueena Falls. It's very pretty. You can walk under the falls which is. . . " she caught her breath as he was addressed a particularly sensitive point. "it's very impressive." She leaned forward into him.

"Then we get back to the car?" he asked her.

She had closed her eyes, even in the darkness, it intensified his light touch. "Yes," she whispered back to him.

"Good. I want you to put on your pretty skirt."

"I can do that," she breathlessly answered him.

"Take off your hiking boots and socks."

"No problem," she replied.

"And the jeans."

"Of course," she responded.

"And give me your panties."

He heard her catch her breath. She didn't reply.

He waited.

Very, very softly, he finally heard her, "All right."

He gave her one last kiss and turned the flashlight back on. "Then let's go, my sweet."

Trying to remember to breath, Belle switched on her own light and began trailing after the man. She realized she was trembling, her hands were sweaty and her throat was dry. _What had she just agreed to? The man could just about bring her to the brink of an orgasm just by looking at her. Knowing that he would have her be open, accessible, available. . . to his hands, his eyes, his. . . ._

Belle felt herself growing hot, even in the coldness of the tunnel. She was glad the darkness hid her embarrassment.

They held hands walking back, their eyes now quite adjusted to the darkness, through the door, by the air shaft and on out of the tunnel. They drove the very short distance over to the falls and Belle set up their lunches. They found one of the picnic tables that had a cool breeze coming over to it. She used an old sheet for a table cloth and set out some of her own china plates, some of her stainless steel cutlery, and cloth napkins, eschewing paper products. She lit some citronella candles, placing them at anchor points on the tablecloth. She explained these helped to keep mosquitos away. The meal was simple enough, macaroni salad, baked beans, pimiento cheese sandwiches, some of Jefferson's chick'n salad sandwiches, and a fruit salad. She had some sparkling water mixed with some fruit juice for their drinks. He thought it was a feast.

He helped her clean up. She repacked the basket and he carried it back to the car. She took him off to show him the falls, taking him underneath it and then the short walk above it. She shared that the falls had been in the movie _The Last of the Mohicans._ They had also shot parts of that movie at Chimney Rock, back in North Carolina, but the cliff areas they had been in were closed off right now to the public. They sat for a while just looking over the waterfall. She leaned comfortably into him, his hand resting on her hip. From time to time she would remember what he had asked her to do once they got back into the car and she would feel herself getting weak. _It really shouldn't be affecting her this much. So not fair._

It was nearly five when they returned to the car and she got in to handle the clothes changing. He stood with his back to the door while she slipped things over and on and under and off. She wasn't sure but she thought he might be talking on the phone. She rapped on the window when she had finished _following all of his instructions _and he walked around to the driver's seat and got it. He leaned over to get his kiss from her. He then leaned back and looked closely at her. She didn't move. She didn't say anything.

"Don't you have something for me?" he finally asked.

Belle couldn't look at him. She felt heat rising, starting between her legs, going up through her stomach and on up her body. She swallowed hard. She had been holding the simple undergarment in her right hand tightly, down by her side. She slowly handed it over to him.

He took it from her and then reached over to lift her chin so that she had to look at him. He took note that her pupils had slightly dilated. He gently kissed her again and told her, "Only you and I will know."

She nodded and dropped her eyes again. She saw him casually feel her plain panties. He couldn't miss the moisture that was still present on the crotch of the little garment. She caught a slight smirk but it quickly changed into a smile.

As he pulled out of the parking space and started back up the gravel road, he told her, "I like it, knowing that you are attracted to me, that you want me."

He had put a different address into the GPS. "I thought we might want to take a different route back, get supper along the way home," he told her.

"Sure, where are you taking me?"

"Down 28 through a couple of small towns, into Greenville, South Carolina. I've already called and gotten us dinner reservations at one of the restaurants there."

"All right," she answered, settling in, picking up her knitting and trying hard not to be mindful of the absence of a single small layer of fabric normally present between her rump and her skirt. A small piece of fabric that normally ran between her legs, shielding her intimacies. _It was just a thin layer of cloth. Shouldn't be that big a concern. Or this much of a turn-on._

She knew he had looked at her eyes. Had she unconsciously betrayed her growing arousal? He had seemed so smug, well especially after running his fingers over her panties. _This was absolutely so unfair. _She glanced over at him, well, at his crotch specifically. Hmm, now, it did seem a little snug. In a moment of wantonness she reached over and laid her palm over him.

Gold was stunned and struggled to hold the car on the road. He managed to say, "Madame you are more than welcome to sample the wares, but give me a little warning when I'm piloting the car down a steep, winding road.

"Just wanted to see if you were interested," she told him, leaving her hand where it was.

"Oh, I'm interested," he assured her.

"Well, there are plenty of little side roads. We're not exactly in a hurry, are we?" She moved her hand slightly up and down, ascertaining the direction his _interests_ lay.

He glanced at her. "No, we are not."

It wasn't long before he found a side road, one of many that went off the highway. He drove a ways down it and found a pull off.

"It might be better if I was in the passenger's seat," he told her.

"You've done this before?" she asked him.

He shrugged, "Not in a Lamborghini."

"You mean we could be the first to do it in a Lamborghini?" she asked.

"I just meant in _this_ car," he clarified.

Belle helped him shift his clothes, finding him quite ready for her. She straddled him and quickly found herself over the edge. He only gave her a moment to recover before he began to encourage her to continue and after a moment she was able to, regaining her senses for a moment but losing them again when he reached up under her tank top to unfasten her bra and then move his hands to her breasts.

Belle nearly yelped when he captured one nipple into his mouth and firmly pinched the other hardened little nub. After some vigorous tonguing and sucking he switched and took the pinched nipple into his mouth while subjecting the now swollen and distended nipple to tweaking. She soon found herself spiraling into a second orgasm. She leaned down to kiss him and felt his body tighten under hers, feeling his hands now on her hips, holding her to him.

They both spent a moment catching their breath.

"Better for now?" he asked her, struggling to clear his own head.

"Uh hum," she answered, resting against him.

He held her a couple of minutes, allowing them both some time to recover before he was able to help her ease off of him. He disposed of the protection and re-ordered his clothes. Before getting out and allowing her back into the passenger seat, he kissed her again. "That was excellent," he told her.

They got back on the road. Belle sat quietly. _Good grief, she had just about jumped the man! _

They rode in silence for awhile, with only the GPS directions breaking through the quietness. Then his phone rang.

He glanced at it and apologized to Belle. "International call. I need to take this," he tapped a button, " Moshi moshi."

There was a moment, "Konnichiwa, Tokugawasan."

There was another moment, "Uhm. . . ma na."

Another moment, "Uhm. . .eh."

Another moment and somewhat hesitantly, Gold spoke, "Watashi mo kochira kara yoroshiku onegai itashimasu."

Another moment, " Uhmm. . .sensen mondai arimasen."

And another moment, "Ja sayonara."

Gold hung up. Belle looked at him. "You speak Japanese?"

"Barely," Gold responded. "Picked up enough to manage polite conversation."

"Business contact?" she asked.

"Would like to be. We're still in negotiation. If things work out both our companies would massively benefit. He just wanted to be sure things were coming along. The guy actually wants to get a preferential contract on a specific little project I'm encouraging along."

"Phone company?" she asked.

"Car company," he responded. "Still pretty hush hush."

Belle opted not to pursue the issue any further. Gold had seemed reluctant to talk about it.

By the time they arrived in Greenville it was about a quarter after six. He found a parking space and they walked down into Fall's Park, marveling at the waterfall in the middle of the city.

They walked on over to The Lazy Goat for their dinner, sharing a cheese plate. Belle got the squash tagliatelli and Gold got the porcini fettucci. He maliciously talked her into dessert, the white chocolate and chevre mousse. He had second thoughts about the dessert. When Belle took a mouthful her face reflected the ecstasy he would see on it when she was coming for him.

"That good, huh?" he asked her. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"It's a very satisfying dessert, I've got to say," she told him.

They were then back on the road, getting home before ten.

He checked his mailbox and found a set of car keys. Belle headed for the stairs and he followed her _she had probably forgotten the elevator had been fixed. . . but maybe not. _She took care of the cats while he watered the plants. His packages hadn't come in yet so he used the old long, lanky garden hose.

He counted. He had smoked all nine of his cigarettes and hadn't wanted more – good, back on track. He took a moment. He needed to be serious about this. He opened a pack and took out eleven again. But there was no need to rush it.

Belle had retired to the bedroom. He followed her in.

Eighteen days down, twenty-four to go.

**Appreciate the kind comments on adding some darkness to Gold's backstory – most reviewers felt it fit well in the context of this story and the characters as I have been drawing them. Thanks to: thedoctorsgirl42. Leafena, Lattelady, The Auburn Girl, cheesyteal'c, The Prince's Phoenix, TeamTHEFT, Samzi, juju0268, Just 2 Dream of You, Aletta-Feather, Stargate533, Girlyemma96, MyraValhallah, TcEm, Grace5231973, Hermitess, Andi88, SakuraBlossom58, Blueberrysuite7 ****NicoleMuenchSeidel****, and ****Sassatelli**** (for 13)****and to cynicsquest for the kind Private Message. And thank you to WastefulWaif (who got in a lovely, may I say insightful, review in early this morning right before I was about to publish). **

**I will be out a day getting another infusion; this one is to counteract side effects of some of my other medication (medicine to take care of symptoms from medicine – how much fun is that?). Not anticipated to be debilitating but on the other side of things my work load is another piece of the pie – this is getting to the end of the school year and things get absolutely crazy – bringing work home – no time to write – but I will continue to try to get out a chapter a week, as always – thx so much - Twyla. **

_Next: Gold lends a hand to James and Mary Margaret_

_Scotland's second most popular drink_

_Emma has some updates_


	19. The Nature of Love

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 19**

**The Nature of Love**

Belle was up early, had watered the plants and had taken the black cat with her down to her store. He heard her leave out and reluctantly pulled himself up out of the bed. He really liked lolling around in the bed now, a marked contrast to his previous preference for being up with the sun to start his day of wheeling and dealing, rocking the business world. Of course, the lolling was so much better when Belle was in the bed with him. With her gone, he was just able to enjoy her lingering fragrance and the warmth her body left. He got up. Going into the kitchen he encountered the white and yellow cat. She looked at him but didn't run away _for a change_. He considered. He knew Belle had fed her already. She never forgot. He opened another can of smelly cat tuna and fed it to the animal.

He eased his guilty conscience. _A little more wouldn't hurt the cat and she might start to like him. _

He called the room number at Mission Hospital and Mary Margaret answered. James was to be released around nine and could he meet them in the room?

He dressed and went on down for his coffee and scone. He shared with Belle that he would be picking up James and Mary Margaret from the hospital and helping with getting James settled in.

Belle beamed at him, "You are being such a sweetheart. Thank you so much,"

He shrugged, a bit embarrassed by her compliment. "Hey, I've got the time right now to be helpful."

"But you don't have to be. It is noticed and it is appreciated."

_He felt special._

He set out to the parking garage with the keys he'd found in his building mailbox last night. He found a Jeep Grand Cherokee waiting for him. _Nice._

He drove it on the hospital and went up to James's room. They were still doing paperwork for his release.

James was complaining, "Much more paperwork to get out of here than to get in."

"What would you know?" Mary Margaret corrected him. "You came in on a gurney with a gunshot wound! People were scrambling!"

James looked over at Gold. "She's been like this. I thought she'd be happy I was coming home, but she's afraid to leave me by myself."

"Well, I can hang with you today," he told the couple. He talked with James. "I have a big screen TV with a gazillion channels, Netflix, a couple of video game systems, plenty of food, a bathroom, a very comfortable chair that you can sit in with your feet up. . . a phone. Mary Margaret, I can babysit the man if you want to get down to your store and check on things."

"Oh, I don't want to impose," she began to protest.

"Sounds perfect to me," James told her. "You can get down to the shop for a couple of hours. I'll be fine. Gold here has enough sense to call 911 if there's a problem. He'll make me get up and exercise a couple of times, supervise my medication, feed me. I'll probably need a babysitter just for today, just to be sure I'm settling in and can get myself back and forth to the toilet. Until we know for sure I can take care of myself."

Mary Margaret looked at the two men. "Did you two plan this? You tag team a little too well," she scolded both of them.

James shook his head in denial, "What's not to like, honey? I know you're worried about the shop and the craft festival coming up on Thursday. If I know you've taken care of those things it will make me feel better. I don't want to feel like I'm a dead weight on you." He spread his hands, "The man's made a generous offer."

Mary Margaret looked at Gold. "Are you sure?"

"What other plans do you think I have, Mary Margaret? I'm on an extended vacation and I can tell you, I'm not used to inactivity. I'm looking for ways to be useful."

"Wow, you're making it sound like we're doing you a favor," she told him. "All right. All right," she capitulated. She gave her husband a quick kiss. "You behave and don't be too demanding," she told him.

"Me? Demanding? I'll be the perfect patient."

She turned to Gold, "Gold, he can't have any alcohol. He's on pain medication. He has some antibiotics he needs to take with food. He needs to get up and walk around at least twenty minutes twice a day, more often if he can stand it. The dressing needs to be changed three times a day. I'll come up and take care of that. If he starts running a fever, call 911. If he gets red streaks coming out of his wound, call 911."

Gold suppressed a smiled, "Yes, ma'am," he responded. _He felt a moment of pride. He'd picked up that little phrase since coming to Asheville. It did seem to sweeten dispositions and open doors._

It certainly soothed Mary Margaret. Before she turned away, he caught the genuine concern coming through in her eyes. _She wasn't doing all this because she was controlling and thinking no one else could manage. She was very, very concerned about James. She just wanted to be sure everything that could be done was being done. _

He guessed that this was the down side of love. There could be great pain if something happened to the one you loved. He watched James. The man was doing everything to reassure Mary Margaret and not let her know if he was in any discomfort. Gold realized that he was watching real love in action, each more concerned about the other, each supporting the other, each willing to sacrifice for the other. He was impressed. He wondered if he had anything like this beginning to grow with Belle.

It was an odd moment for him. He realized that much of his relationship with Belle was slanted towards satisfying his own needs and he hadn't given much thought to her desires.

Well, he was watching what he was eating.

Well at least, he was feeling guilty about eating junk food. . . well, for the most part.

He was restraining himself from buying her expensive gifts. He was trying to share and be honest with her. He was trying to learn to dance.

Maybe, maybe he was getting there, in little tiny baby steps to be sure, but steps none the same.

When James was ready to leave, hospital staff assisted him into a wheelchair and Gold went down to get the black jeep to meet them at the pick-up point. James was able to transition by himself into the vehicle and into one of the back seats. Mary Margaret sat next to him.

"This is a nice car," Mary Margaret commented.

"Thanks. I knew that any of the cars I had here wouldn't quite do the job," Gold told them. "I made a call and had this one on hand."

James looked at him from his comfortable position in the back seat. "You can do that? I mean, just make a call and there's a car waiting for you?"

"Yeah, I pay a little extra each year for, what do they call it, concierge service, but it's absolutely worth it."

"Is this yours or is it rented?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I told them I might need it for a few weeks, so I figured they likely leased it rather than buying it outright."

He caught Mary Margaret and James looking at each other.

"We do appreciate this, man," James told him. "I wasn't looking forward to scrunching myself up into that little Saturn."

Once back to the apartment, Gold parked in the loading zone and helped James out. He gave him the code to bring the elevator up to his apartment and then moved the car back across the street into the garage. By the time he had made it back to his apartment, James and Mary Margaret had made it upstairs and James was lying down in his Ekornes chair.

"This is a nice chair," James told him.

Mary Margaret was fussing over him, getting him a blanket, getting him something to drink, setting up his medications, making sure he knew when he took what, checking his dressing. James finally caught her hands.

"Mary Margaret, I'm doing fine. I'll be fine. You go and take care of your shop. I've got the phone set up here and you can call me twenty times if you like. I'll call you if there are any problems. I promise. Now kiss me goodbye and off with you," he told her.

The two men finally managed to convince Mary Margaret to leave.

"Wonderful woman, but she's gotten very clingy," James told Gold.

"She was afraid you might die on her," Gold explained.

"I know. I hear it was dicey there for a bit. But I'm doing great now and expected to make a full recovery. Still," he admitted, "it is kinda nice to have her hovering over me and granting my every whim."

"Sounds like you're planning on taking advantage of your sweet wife," Gold observed.

"In every way I can," James agreed. "But," he added, "truth be known I'm not actually up for much."

The two men settled in for the morning. Gold handed James the remote and commented that there wasn't much on during the day.

"Whoa!" James alerted him after surfing through the stations. "An _A-Team_ marathon," and the two settled in to watch Hannibal, B.A., Murdock and Face save the day, with James explaining the unlikely premise to the Scotsman.

After a moment, Gold commented, "I don't understand why they traveled in such a distinctive van. Wouldn't it have made better sense for them to have an unremarkable vehicle? And how did they manage day-to-day expenses? Did they sleep in the van? What did they do for food? Do they ever actually collect payment? It's a poor business model."

"Don't think too hard about it," advised James. "Just go along for the ride." Gold nodded and settled in.

It was around noon when Mary Margaret popped back in to check on James. The two men had been enjoying nachos and some Irn Bru's.

Mary Margaret changed James's dressing. She picked up one of the Irn Bru's.

"What is this? It looks radioactive," she noted.

James explained, "Something Gold let me try. It's cloying sweet, not very carbonated, kinda has a bitter aftertaste, not at all orangy, but Gold tells me it's the national soft drink of Scotland. Their second most popular drink. It'll never surpass Orange Crush."

Mary Margaret swung on Gold, "Does Belle know you have this in the house?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "She does."

Mary Margaret huffed and turned back to business. She checked over James's morning routine, checked over the medication bottles and asked Gold if she needed to have some lunch sent up. He declined. He had plenty of food. They would do well. The two sent her on back to her shop.

James had to ask, "Does Belle know you have this in the house?"

Gold bristled, "Hey, I'm the man. I don't need approval from a ninety pound woman for what I have in _my_ apartment. I'm in charge. I have control. I decide. I don't have to ask her if it's all right."

James paused for a moment before asking, "And so what did she say?"

Gold grimaced, "She said that she wasn't my mother and I could make my own decisions about what I wanted to put into my body. . . and then she made this face."

James nodded, "I know this face. It's the 'I'm not angry but I'm very disappointed' face."

"That's the one," Gold agreed.

"Mary Margaret teaches a master class in that face."

"So it's your fault. If you managed your woman better, I wouldn't have to be dealing with this from Belle."

James shook his head. "I doubt it. I think it comes with the double X chromosome."

Gold sighed. "I don't know. I never got that look from Milah. She spent a lot of time letting me know that she was angry as hell with me."

He then got up to fix lunches. He held up a packet for James to see, "May I suggest this amazing product for our lunches. It's pre-cooked microwavable bacon. And no, Belle doesn't approve on so many levels, but it's delicious and very easy."

"Sounds awesome," James told him. "BLT's?" he asked.

"That I know how to make," and using the Bunny bread Emma had had him pick up, lettuce, a couple of fresh tomatoes from the roofgarden and the bacon, Gold put together two sandwiches apiece for himself and his guest. He found some salt and pepper potato chips for a side and garnered another couple of Irn Bru's. He supervised James taking his antibiotic and the two settled back in to playing video games.

At one o'clock there was tap on the roof garden door. It was Peter. Gold let him in.

He nodded at James. "I heard you were out. Doing ok?"

James nodded back at the young man.

"You two know each other?" Gold asked.

"We do. Peter's a good friend of Emma's," James explained.

"Yeah, she said she might be dropping by in a bit to see James," Peter told them. "Oh cool, you're playing Mario Cart. Let me have a remote."

James would have expected Peter, being the younger man and more familiar with video games, to be beating them both, but he saw a steep learning curve from Gold. He would struggle initially but would seem to quickly grasp a game's concept. He was kicking both their asses. They switched over to Black Ops Two. Same learning curve.

Impressive.

"I hear the women are teaching you the Shag," Peter said to Gold as they were playing.

"With a bum knee it's been interesting," Gold admitted.

"Wait, the women taught you to shag?" James asked. "No, no, no, no. Women can't teach a man how to shag. It's a man's dance – a rooster dance. Let me see what I can do," and he pulled himself out of the chair and slowly began to show Gold some of his footwork. His recovery tempered his movements, making it proceed at an ideal pace for beginner Gold. Peter joined them and demonstrated a few of his own movements.

Gold mimicked and adopted many of the moves that he was shown.

James told him to quit looking at his feet. The man's job in the dance was to lead, to direct the dance, to guide the woman along, a good partner would be responsive to his cues. Gold continued to practice even after James had to sit back down.

At two there was a knock on the door. It was Emma.

"How you doing?" she asked James, nodding to both Peter and Gold.

"Great. Gonna have a full recovery," he told her.

"Got some info for you," she glanced at Gold, who was up but had stopped the dance moves. "We're pretty sure it was one of The Shadow Man's henchmen that hit you. Given the caliber of the bullet we don't think it was meant to be lethal."

"Like a warning shot?" asked James. Gold quickly realized that the three were all working together. This was all part of Emma's investigation.

"Yeah," Emma responded to James. "He's got several of his known henchmen in town. Some are posing or, hell, even working as sleezy photographers. It gives them a perfect cover and likely brings in a little extra income. The Shadow Man seems to have to objection to their activities. I suspect the Shadow Man himself is about to come into Asheville. Perhaps in a week, perhaps two."

"What's he after?" Peter asked.

James closed his eyes. "I think I know. There's a block of cocaine sitting in the evidence room, in a separate safe, about ten pounds worth. That's about a quarter of a million dollars worth. We've been sitting on the news and keeping it out of the paper. But of course, the drug runners themselves know where it is. It's probably part of the Shadow Man's network and he wants it back."

Emma nodded, "Yeah, that's what I thought it might be." She sighed. "OK, I'm going to suggest several things and I'll need the Deputy Mayor to help with this."

James glanced over at Gold. Emma waved him off. "He's already involved. He knows about me. Now, I'll need an order from you to move that cocaine but it should only go through people you absolutely trust, James. Who fits that bill?"

James considered. "That would have been Graham. It might have been Sean Thomas but he's out of the force and deployed. Damn, our police force are good guys, hell they're great guys, and I hate that this Shadow Man makes them all suspect." James sat a moment and thought things through. "Daniel, Daniel Bean. He's quiet, but sure. I've known him a long time. I can trust him."

"Then get Daniel's help. You'll need to get him on a night shift and have him move the stuff. I'll be ready to take it over. I've got a great hiding place."

James sighed. "I'll get on it."

"What do you need me to do?" Peter asked her.

"What you've been doing, Peter. Keep a look out. Try to identify the heavies. There's one guy to keep a particular lookout for. He's very dangerous and I suspect he's the shooter. He just goes by the name of 'Larry.' He's one of the Shadow Man's prime henchmen."

"Do we have a description?" Peter asked.

"Actually yeah. He's not at all what you might think. He's an older guy, balding, kinda on the tubby side but does well with disguises. We don't have any pictures, yet. I've heard that he tries to dress like Gold did when he first came here, but doesn't have the money or the style to pull it off."

Gold frowned but didn't say anything.

"So let me know when you can get Daniel on evening shift, James," Emma directed him. "Now, what are you guys doing here?"

"Playing Black Ops. Gold's kicking our asses."

"I'm in. Give me a controller," said Emma and a new game was on.

00oo00oo00oo00

When Belle and Mary Margaret got in, the four were still gaming.

Emma got up to go, sharing with Belle that Gold was "an evil genius." Earlier he'd asked _demanded _her help in replacing his dishware and she'd suggested an afternoon trip over to IKEA in Charlotte. Tomorrow at 11:00. Then she and Peter left out.

Mary Margaret thanked Gold sincerely and gathered up her husband and all his medications and sundry and also left out, leaving Gold and Belle alone.

Belle had given him a kiss and helped him pick up the haphazard mess the three gaming guests had left behind.

"What did you do, eat and drink all day?" she held up an empty bottle of Irn Bru.

"Pretty much and play video games," he confessed.

"One of the greatest financial minds in the world playing video games," she had to smile. "How'd you do?"

"I kicked everyone's ass," he told her with a smile. "Apparently I have some sort of special talent, a video game savant."

"You have a lot of special talents," she told him. "Oh," there was a knock on the door. "That must be Jefferson with supper." Belle answered the door and took in the meal. "Oh goody, it's his broccoli and 'cheddar' frittata with asparagus and his hollandaise with leek polenta cakes."

"Oh goody," responded Gold. Belle looked at him.

"You should be able to handle it. You need something to counteract the bacon and Irn Bru's you've been chugging all day," she told him.

He dutifully began to eat. _It wasn't awful but he never thought that he would acquire a taste for a vegan diet. Of course the food was a bit like what he would probably get at a high price spa, except there he would pay much more and get much less._

After supper, sitting on their bed, Gold made his skype call to Bae. He didn't ask that Belle leave the room. She could hear the two chatting about everyday occurrences. Bae was concerned about 'Cora' and he'd heard that his mother was coming into Asheville.

"You know it wasn't her idea. She told me that Killian had suggested the town," she heard Bae tell him.

"Really?!" Gold was surprised. "Why would he do that?"

"No idea, but, of course, she agreed and then put together that you were there. I think once she started thinking about it, she thought it would be something fun to do to you."

"She's always trying to find fun things to do to me," Gold remarked caustically.

"Dad," Belle could hear the hesitation in the younger man's voice. "Do you want me to come to Asheville? It sounds like you could use some moral support here."

"Bae," she heard Gold respond to him. "You know I always welcome your company. But it's going to be circus and as much as I'd like to convince myself that I'm going to be the ringmaster, I actually think I'm going to be the guy walking the tightrope."

"I'll see what I can do," she heard the promise in his son's voice and the two men ended the call.

Belle gave him a moment, hesitant to share her own news, "Something happened today," she began.

Gold was instantly on alert. He waited.

"A woman came into the bookstore."

He waited.

"She was very well dressed. Dark red hair, put up. Expensive earrings. I suspect her lipstick cost more than my entire outfit. Older woman but still really attractive. It was a bit odd."

"How so?" he asked.

"She said she was looking for a friend who was fond of practical jokes. That he never gave his real name. She said he was a middle-aged man, attractive, slender, hair – about chin length, brown with a bit of grey, brown eyes, walked with a limp and carried a cane." Belle sat quietly after providing the description.

Gold let out a sigh. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her we had a large tourist population in July."

"And then she. . . "

"Just smiled at me. And told me if I saw anyone who met the description that I was to give him a message."

"What's the message?"

"That an old business partner wanted to touch base with him. That she had a deal she would like to discuss with him."

"Did she leave a name?"

"No," Belle looked at him. "Bobby, she was kinda scary. Cold like. I mean, she smiled, but it never reached her eyes. Who was she?"

He stood up. "Cora Hart. A woman I met a long time ago. A business woman, one of the most clever, devious and successful I've ever met. We did a couple of deals together when I was first starting out and then she dumped me as a business partner. Probably a lucky break for me. She was married to a Henry Mills. A nice guy, too nice for her. She used his connections, his capital and expanded her own businesses, gobbling up a lot of smaller companies. She is the definition of 'hostile takeover.' I know I took over companies and closed things, but I also hung around and re-opened and re-worked businesses so that they became successful. She left behind wastelands. She closed businesses that competed with her and replaced them with nothing. People were left without their jobs, their pensions, their insurance. I try to avoid contact with her in general."

"So why is she here, now, looking for you?" Belle cut to the pertinent question.

He took a deep breath. "There is a very big deal that I'm working on closing. A very, very big deal. She wants it."

"To be part of it?"

"No, she wants the entire thing. I'm not sure what she is going to do to try to get me to back off." He walked away from Belle and looked out at the roof garden. "She went to see my son and tried to find out where I was. He didn't tell her, but he told me that he thought that she already knew where I was and was just trying to get confirmation."

So she's come here to make a deal with you, to get you to drop the deal?" Belle confirmed.

"Yeah, she thinks I've gone soft. She wants me to back off." He didn't say it, he wouldn't say it. _Was she somehow going to use Belle to get him to back off? He considered arranging an unfortunate accident for the bitch but recognized that wouldn't go over well with Belle if she ever found out. He needed to come up with something else._

"So what do you think she's going to do?" Belle went right to the heart of the matter again.

"I don't know. She can be very unpredictable. She's very dangerous."

"Do I need to be . . . concerned?"

He hesitated, "Maybe. I don't trust her."

"What do you want me to do if she comes around again? And will she come around again?"

"Lord yes, she'll come around again. She's like a bloodhound. Once she's on the scent, she'll never give up."

"What do you want me to do?" Belle asked him again.

"I don't want you caught in the cross-fire, I know that." He thought for a moment. "Let her know that you think the person she's looking for sometimes comes in for coffee early in the morning. That's the truth, so you aren't lying to her. I think I look different enough now from the person she's describing that you can be forgiven for not acknowledging me straight up. And if she knows we're a couple she shouldn't be surprised that you tried to protect me."

"All right. She'll come around then, won't she?"

"She will." Gold sat on the edge of the bed. "You know, Milah and her entourage will also be showing up on your doorstep. They're going to film you. She'll want unflattering clips of you on her show, I think,"

"So me screaming on my threshold for them to get lost and leave me alone. . . probably not the best move?" Belle asked. He had glanced over and the woman was actually smiling. _Why was she smiling? She was about to get sucked down into a nightmare, a nightmare of his making. He wanted to send her off to Cancun or Paris or anywhere that she would be beyond the reach of his ex-wife, and ex-business mentor, and for that matter, his ex-wife's lawyer. _

"Uh, Belle, these women coming to town, they are all uhm. . . uhm. . . " _good lord how could he tell her that he'd slept with all of them. Should he tell her? Milah and Regina would use every weapon at their disposal to get to her. Better she hear about his past indiscretions from him. _

Belle held him in her gaze. "Are you going to tell me that you've had a special relationship with each of these women?"

_Good grief, she's intuitive. _"Special relationship," he repeated. "If when you say special relationship you mean, doing it with them on boardroom tables, on desks, in elevators, well yeah. I really tried to honor my marriage vows, I promise you and I didn't start sleeping around on Milah until she had moved out and filed for divorce. Cora was the first. She had propositioned me some time earlier and I had turned her down, but there came a point, I was pretty down and she was very experienced and very talented. . . well, I didn't keep turning her down. It didn't last very long – she dumped me. And later, much later, Milah's attorney, who happens to be Cora's daughter, she also propositioned me."

"Really?" Belle was intrigued. "Isn't that some kind of ethical violation?"

"Absolutely. . . for her. She made this confession that she had been interested in me since I had taken her into my legal group. I had been impressed with her pedigree, her grades and recommendations. I had started out mentoring her but she soon moved on to her own firm and primarily specialized in handling particularly ugly divorces."

"So when she propositioned you. . . ?" Belle was curious despite herself.

"We had been hammering out some of the many, many details of the divorce. It was very late at night. We were alone. We were in my boardroom. She put her hand on my knee. She didn't let it go. Beautiful woman. Now, I was very pissed at my ex-wife and somehow the idea of screwing her attorney appealed to me. That was the first time. There were a couple of other times."

"Tell me Bobby, have there been a lot of other women?"

"Actually no. Plenty of opportunities, I'll admit, but no others until you."

"Are you telling me all those tabloids with your pictures with Hollywood starlets and nothing happened?"

"Nothing happened. Those women were beautiful, but I felt nothing for them. They didn't appeal to me. We didn't have sex."

"But I did appeal to you?"

"You were the most glorious creature I had ever seen. I wanted you almost immediately, but I didn't think that you would want me. And then the better I got to know you, the more I wanted you. I want to get to know you, do things with you, talk with you, spend time with you."

"Wow, you really like me then?"

"Belle, I'm falling in love with you. It was never like this with Milah and certainly not with Cora or Regina," he told her.

"So what do you want me to do about Milah? And Cora? And Regina?"

He lay back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. "I don't know. I really am not sure the best path to take with these women." He grasped at a straw, "I guess, be nice to them. They won't be expecting that. It'll throw them off. Maybe they'll get bored and go back home." He didn't sound convinced. _He was personally prepared to take them out himself if they hurt or threatened Belle, but he didn't want Belle to worry about him. . . or his temper._

"Uh hum," Belle tried to support him. "No doubt they're all hat and no cowboy." She held up her hands to him as if she was giving up, "I'm a good southern girl. I can certainly go all sweetness and sprinkle some sugah on them. Bless their hearts. And Bobby," Belle told him as she began to walk towards the bathroom to get herself ready for bed, "You should know that I'm falling in love with you, too."

He didn't bother to count his cigarettes tonight.

Nineteen days down, twenty-three to go.

**A.N. Staggering week, passed through the infusion (easy one, no problems there) but pretty well beat up from the multiple IV attempts; now back to work (working on reports until 9:30 most evenings so little enough time for fanfic writing). **

**Got to thank my reviewers (and sorry I haven't been able to get back with everyone personally but figured a chapter update would be more appreciated than a thank you note and, if I wanted to sleep, that was the choice I had to make). Thanks to MyraValhallah, Lattelady, thedoctorsgirl42, cheesyteal'c, juju0268, Samzi, Thechurch, The Prince's Phoenix, TeamTHEFT, Just 2 Dream of You (twice), Hermitess, Vacumatic, Estrany, Grace5231973, Anonymous Nerd Girl, Mini Nicka, TcEm, DruidKitty, lissie83, KatieMarrie,WastefulWaif, Leafena, and Girlyemma96 (I do hope I got everybody on this last chapter – thx especially to the many new reviewers).**

**An enormous thank you goes to Leafena, who introduced me to Irn Bru (I had to make a pilgrimage to Charlotte to find it and then make everybody in the house sample it and give me feedback). It is really a radioactive orange – too sweet for my taste and not fizzy enough but such a great discovery and a fun, realistic addition to this story – I couldn't pass it up. **

_NEXT (hoping I'll be able to pull it together for next Thursday)_

_Cora makes a brief appearance_

_Emma and Gold take a Road Trip_ _to Ikea_


	20. Road Trip Confessions

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 20**

**Road Trip Confessions**

Belle had already left out for work when he got up. He sometimes envied her energies, feeling that he gave her his own life force on such a regular basis that perhaps she fed on it, renewing herself while sapping him. He might be worried about it, but was having much too good a time of it. And as long as he had some life force, he'd be willing to pass it on to her. He turned over in the bed. He could smell her on the bedsheets. He buried his nose in the pillow, much as he had buried his face between her legs earlier.

He had to smile. She was still so shy with him and would try to draw back from him whenever he pursued her most delicate sensitivities with his lips and tongue. He would always make an effort to go slowly, to be gentle, to give her time. . . There could be a gentle flicking of his tongue back and forth, back and forth. Slow breathing, cool air on heated tissues. Soft pressure of his lips on her sweet secret lips, often by now wet and swollen with her readiness and anticipation. And in due time, due time, he would be rewarded by her helpless, spasmodic response. He wondered how she might respond to some toys, some things that provided stimulation, some things that maintained stimulation and some things that inhibited stimulation, intensifying what else is happening. She was shy, but adventuresome and eager to learn. She hadn't gone ballistic when he had used one of his silk ties to restrain her – she had seemed to enjoy it. He certainly had.

_He might want to talk with her about it at first before he sprung anything on her. _

00000ooooo00000

He sat at breakfast, dressed in his jeans and Walmart t-shirt and, now, his new orthotically enhanced sandals which had come in as an early morning delivery. He had brought down Belle's pair to give to her as a little surprise gift). She had paused, then smiled at him, thanking him and then changed out her drug store flipflops into the new sandals. They really were pretty and did match her eyes.

Ruby had brought him over his coffee. Unaccustomarily, she sat down across from him.

"That was one scary bitch that came by yesterday," she said without preamble.

Gold didn't respond.

"She started grilling me and then worked over Belle. Sounded like she was trying to find out about you."

"What did you say?" he asked Ruby.

"I played the ditz card." In a high pitched voice she echoed her remarks, "'Gee, I don't know. We get so many people in and out.' I think you need to lay low until she clears out."

"Thanks," he told her. "But I'm going to talk with her. She's like a pitbull. If she's determined to talk with me, she'll hang around until she makes contact. And the longer she hangs around the more damage she's likely to cause."

"You know her well then?" Ruby asked.

"I do, unfortunately, I do," he admitted.

He went out for his usual walk, stopping by to check in on Mary Margaret. James was sitting in her shop. He greeted Gold warmly. "Felt well enough to come down to the shop today. Probably be back at work by Monday."

"You look good," Gold told him.

"Appreciate all the help you've been. Let me know if there's ever. . . " James told him.

Gold turned his attention to Mary Margaret. "Shop's doing ok?" he asked her.

"Yeah, except we had this crazy woman come in yesterday, looking for you, I think. She described you, well, at least the 'old you' pretty accurately."

"What did you tell her?"

"I explained that this is a yarn shop. I played the straight-guys-don't-do-yarn card and I told her that we don't get too many heterosexual males in here by themselves."

"Thanks. She is someone from my past and I'm going to have to deal with her at some point."

"Well, we've got your back," she told him. "Whatever you need us to do or say."

He was momentarily surprised. These people, who just barely knew him, were offering to 'get his back.' He was touched. For so long, he had lived in a world in which everyone was out for themselves and having people willing to step up on his behalf, well, he had never experienced anything like it.

"I'll handle her, but," he added, "thanks. I'll let you know if there is anything."

"Glad to help," James told him. "Mary Margaret told me about her. Doesn't sound like anyone you'd want to meet in a dark alley."

"Not at all," agreed Gold. "She hard enough to deal with in a well-lit arena with a roomful of witnesses."

When he stepped out of the shop, he looked both ways up and down the street. He couldn't shake the growing feeling that he was being stalked. He caught a glimpse of one of Peter's boys who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. _So Peter was keeping an eye on him. Couldn't exactly complain about that. He didn't see Cora. _

He shook himself. He wasn't going to sit back and wait on the bitch but he wasn't going to skulk around and try to hide from her either. He really needed to go ahead and have it out with her, get her out of The Deal, get her out of his life, get her out of Asheville. Especially with Milah and The Entourage coming, he didn't think he could deal with two, maybe even three women, if Regina was still hanging with Milah as her 'best friend,' from his past life. A rat-cougar, a spitting cobra and a venomous spider, vermin, all of them. He certainly didn't want Belle to have to deal with any of them.

Hell, he didn't want to have to deal with any of them. But if he had to, he had to. He'd never shirked from a battle in his life.

He finished his walk and stopped back at Belle's store for an Italian soda. He was relaxing, glancing through a book from the store, resting, regrouping, meditating before Emma was to come by and connect with him to head off to Charlotte.

He actually spotted _her_ walking down the street. He was sitting at one of the outside tables. He _felt_ her presence before he saw her, as if she was a bad wind blowing through. He froze, still making himself intent on his book as if he hadn't seen her. She came closer and, much to his surprise, she walked right past him.

_Had he changed that much?_

The jeans, the t-shirt, the sandals, the beard, all were differences. He still carried a cane but had replaced the slick black tube with the gold embossed handle with a polished stick.

He realized that not only his clothes had changed, but his demeanor had altered and that may have made his unwitting disguise complete. He was far more relaxed and, well, what terms would Belle used to describe him? laid-back, mellowed-out, accepting of the universe.

_The bitch had walked right past him and had not recognized him!_

Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to go after her.

He watched, although he tried to appear as if he was intent on his book. She had gone on into the bookstore. From his vantage outside of the shop he could see her meandering in the aisles. He continued to watch her. He didn't want her intimidating Belle. Or harassing her. Or pestering her. Or being in the same room as her. Or the same city. He watched.

She went over first to talk to Ruby who went into an amazing performance, acting like a drug-hazed idiot. She quickly became obviously disgusted with the barista and turned her attentions over to Belle. He watched.

Belle greeted the woman with her usual bright smile. She continued smiling and handed over the number he had given her. Without even thanking her, Cora turned and began dialing. He heard his phone ring and let it go. _No need to hurry. He wanted to get her number into his phone. He let it go to voice mail._

He'd call her back Monday. This was the weekend. Cora looked totally disgusted, yelled at Belle and stormed out of the store, again walking right by him, her heels clicking on the sidewalk.

He had to agree that she was still a most attractive woman, very well put together, but, as Belle had noticed, very cold.

_Something he had been concerned about, deep, deep down, but had not shared with Belle, was the concern that he might still have feelings for the woman. She had once fascinated and intrigued him. He thought they'd had a lot in common. And she had taught him a lot too. But seeing her, walking by in a huff, too good for everyone and everything around her. . . nothing had stirred. It was over. He could deal with her. _

There was a moment and the phone rang again. He looked at it. It was Belle.

"Yes, my sweet," he answered promptly.

"You didn't talk with her," she said flatly.

"No, it's the weekend and I'm on vacation. I'll call her back Monday."

"I thought she knew you," Belle told him, "She walked right by you."

"Remember what I looked like when you first saw me. That's who she was looking for. But right now I look like the kind of person she regularly steps on so she didn't give me a second glance."

There was a pause, then Belle continued, "She is so scary, Bobby. Is she really dangerous?"

"Absolutely. But, Belle, understand something. So am I. So am I."

OoooooooooooooooooO

Emma met him promptly at eleven. _Had to appreciate that about the woman – promptness wasn't a characteristic he often encountered in females._ Emma did not appear happy. _Join the club. _

"I'm driving," he told her as they walked across the street to the garage.

"Ah fuck it," Emma told him. "No way."

He glared at her and shook his head. "Not today, Miss Swan. I'm going to insist and you can threaten all you want, but I'm driving. I'm prepared to take this as far as I need to. You can tell Belle, but I'm confident that she will back me up. I've let you push me around twice now. It's my turn."

Emma assessed the man. He did seem pretty determined.

"Taking the Lamborghini?" she finally asked.

"We can," he answered, sensing her beginning to weaken.

She considered. "All right. Let's go then," and she got on into the car.

She watched him drive. He was steady and sure, steering the powerful, responsive machine out of the garage and into busy traffic.

He'd chosen to take I-26 to 74 to I-85.

"It's a long-ass drive. You sure you want to do this and not just go to Walmart?" Emma asked him.

"Yeah, it's another vacation experience."

"You ever been to an Ikea?" she asked him.

"No, but I'm familiar with the company. Great success story."

"What? You've got stock in it?"

"Maybe," he answered without making a commitment.

"And you don't have stock in Walmart?"

"Got that right," he responded. _This was about the same distance to The Tunnel, but he didn't anticipate quite the level of delightfulness as was his time with Belle. Emma aggravated him, really aggravated him. She was too strong-willed and stubborn, too much. . . well, she was too much like himself. Clever, somewhat underhanded. Not the least bit scared of him. Yeah, he liked her but not in a romantic way. He wondered. . . ._

"Emma, have you ever been involved with anyone?"

"Uhmmm, that's kinda personal, isn't it?" She had slid down into her seat.

"Well, you seem to know a lot about me. I thought it would be only fair for me to find out more about you," he told her honestly.

"I'm not involved with anyone right now," she hedged.

He called her, "I didn't ask about right now. I wanted to know if there's been anyone before now."

Emma rode in silence awhile. She sighed. "Officer Graham, the man that was killed when he began to close in on the police evidence room thefts. . . He and I were. . . close."

"Boyfriend?"

"Had been an old friend and we had a relationship."

"A relationship?"

She sighed again. "You aren't going to let up, are you?" she asked him. "We'd done it a couple of times, when I was in town. He was pretty hot.

"But nobody right now."

"No, you planning on hooking me up with somebody?" she took on the offensive.

"Oh god no. You're an aggravating, irritating woman. I don't know anybody that I'd inflict you on."

"Well, thanks. I feel the same way about you. You're an arrogant, insufferable man. And I have no idea what it is that Belle sees in you. Can I drive your car?"

"What?!"

"This is a really, really nice car. I don't think I will ever get another chance to drive a car like this."

"No," he told her.

"Oh come on. You've seen me drive. I'm a good driver," she wheedled.

"No," he repeated.

"Please, please, please. You know I can handle it. I'll be extra, super-careful."

"Oh, you'll be extra, super-careful. Then let me rephrase, hell no," he told her.

"Please," she looked at him with her green eyes wide opened, managing somehow to look sweet and innocent. "I'll take you out to a great steak restaurant."

He wavered.

She continued, whispering seductively, "I won't tell Belle."

"I don't lie to Belle," he protested.

"But you don't always tell her the truth," she leveled with him.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "But, I'm working on that. She's all right with me eating whatever I want," he was beginning to soften.

"But you know she doesn't like it when you eat meat. She never says anything. But you going out and getting a big, thick, medium rare juicy steak, oh you wouldn't want her to find out you had done that."

He considered. "If I say no. . . ?"

"I could tell her we stopped and got a big, thick steak anyway. I'm not under any compunction not to lie to her."

He pulled off onto the next exit and into a gas station. He got out and Emma followed suit, running around to the other side as he walked himself over to the passenger's seat.

"Did I mention that you're a manipulative, conniving bitch," he told her.

She grinned at him.

"I do want something for this," he told her as she revved up the car and slowly pulled out of the gas station, maneuvering her way back onto the Interstate.

"Maybe, what do you want?" Emma asked him.

This was awkward, "Belle is easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, much less been with."

"Ok," Emma nodded.

He started, then stopped, then started again.

"Just spit it out," Emma told him.

"Her underwear looks like it comes from Walmart."

"Eeuu," Emma replied. "Walmart underwear. I don't think so. It probably comes from Dollar General in a three-pack," she clarified.

"Whatever," he said. "I'd like to get her into something more . . . fitting. . . for someone as beautiful as she is, but I can't figure out how to do it without coming over. . ." he hesitated.

"Like a perv, a lech, a creep?" Emma supplied him several possibilities.

"Exactly. How can I get her into a lingerie store and get her to buy something with silk and lace. I'm not looking for anything naughty. I'm looking for something beautiful for a beautiful woman."

"Wow, I don't know. You're kinda early in the relationship to be buying sexy undies."

"I don't necessarily want 'sexy undies,' although I certainly wouldn't object," he admitted. "I just want her out of the waist-high white cotton drawers and plain white padded bra."

"You want her out of these?" Emma glanced over at him.

"You know what I mean. I'd like to see her in undergarments that reflect her beauty. Something not from Dollar General."

"I don't know. Belle is awfully tight with a dollar.

"I would be buying."

"Yeah, but she's awfully tight with your money too," Emma told him.

"You got that right," he told her. "So, no ideas."

"Just tell her, already. Let her know that you think she's beautiful and you hate her plain Jane underwear. Tell her she'd be doing you a favor, doing your love life a favor. . ." Emma glanced over at him. "I take it your love life doesn't need any favors."

He smiled slightly, and cleared his throat, "Emma, I'm not comfortable talking with you about my relationship with Belle. It's private."

"Talk about it, don't talk about it. Belle spills all. She says you're like a stevedore with a jackhammer, that you're doing her a couple of times a night, that you're slightly kinky."

Gold gapped at her. "She's said what?!" He was shocked, nearly speechless.

Emma started giggling. "She hasn't said squat." Emma was now laughing. . . at him, "She just smiles when Mary Margaret and I try to get details from her. But the woman is glowing. She's sooooo relaxed. I figure you're doing a good job with her. I tell you now, honey, I was concerned, you being an older dude and all, but I guess you've got some experience going for you and you're apparently getting the job done."

"Thanks," he said obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Well feel good about yourself. Mary Margaret and I had been concerned if Belle would ever find a fella. And you seem to be making her happy," Emma told him.

"Am I?" he asked. "She's certainly making me happy."

"You gonna dump her when the vacation's up?" Emma asked him point blank.

He looked over at Emma. "You've driven long enough. Pull over at the next exit."

Emma did so and after they had switched places, he sat behind the steering wheel. "I'm not going to dump her. I'm afraid that she may come to her senses and dump me," he confessed.

"That blows me out of the water! You have money, looks, personality, why would any woman in her right mind dump you?" Emma asked exasperated.

"Well, I'm given to understand that I'm arrogant and insufferable," he replied.

"To me, but I'm not Belle. Maybe if you were boinking me I'd feel differently about you," she considered a moment. "Nah, I'd still find you arrogant and insufferable. But, as I said, I'm not Belle. She's not planning on dumping you. She's falling in love with you." They rode in silence for awhile, then Emma announced, "I think it's the car."

"The car?"

"It's sex on wheels," she told him.

"Uhmm," he mused. "Now I've always been told that this car was me. Of all the cars I have, this is my favorite. I think it reflects who I am more than any of the others."

"As I said, sex on wheels. Now, I don't know what other cars you have." Emma pondered the situation. "As for this car, you and the car are both dark and powerful and pretty sexy, so I'd have to agree it reflects who you are."

He shook his head, "Oh, Emma, this is probably my least sexy car. Now my vintage Lamborghini Miura, that's a sexy car. And I have a Cobra and a Ferrari 250 that are all pretty hot cars. If any of them were a woman, they might hold a candle to Belle, hell, even you if you got washed up, combed your hair and applied a little lipstick."

"So you think of your cars as women?" she asked him.

"Absolutely. They both take the same type of handling and care."

She rolled her eyes. "That sounded very patronizing," she told him.

"What?! You both require on-going care and feeding. You look better with a little polish. You like a hot, hard, fast spin every so often. And appreciate a firm hand on the tiller."

He didn't hear Emma say anything. He glanced over at her and she was just looking at him, maybe she was glaring at him.

"You're a chauvinist pig," she finally said.

"Did I say anything that wasn't true?" he asked innocently.

"You are on such dangerous turf," she warned him.

He shrugged, "What can I say? I'm a pig."

"Like that makes it ok," she cautioned him. She was quiet for a moment then abruptly, "You've done Belle in this car, haven't you? Eeuh, probably where I'm sitting."

"Emma, I've told you I don't like. . . "

"You nailed her in the car! Probably on the trip to Stumphouse. You dog! I hope you had it detailed before you put my ass in the same seat," Emma groaned. "You didn't have time to take care of that, did you?"

He sighed, "No I didn't Emma. Sorry," he knew this was an admittance of his indiscretion with Belle, but Emma was too perceptive to try to lie his way out of the recent car liaison. She had a remarkable capacity to see when someone was lying.

It was close to one o'clock when they pulled off onto University Boulevard and then immediately onto Ikea Boulevard.

"Not hard to find," Gold remarked as the enormous yellow and blue building loomed up over the horizon.

"Not a bit. Let's park and head on in. We can get lunch in the cafeteria. With any luck their meatballs will be on the menu," Emma told him.

He began trolling the aisles looking for a place to park. After the third circuit, Emma sighed and told him, "Just park in the first place you come to. We're going to have to walk. If you wanted a good parking place, you should've let me drive."

He looked at her incredulously, "That witch thing you and your friends are supposed to have? You can always find a good parking place?" he finally asked.

"Usually works that way," Emma told him.

"Shit," he responded and pulled into one the places about a quarter mile from the entrance. They began the hike towards the entrance.

"This place is huge," Gold remarked. "You could fit five Walmarts into it. I've been in smaller buildings where they're constructing planes."

"Yup, it's big," Emma led him inside and took him upstairs, turning against the arrows to take them right into the restaurant. As she had hoped, they were able to get meatballs and some sides for lunch.

"Now," she asked him, "we can go directly back downstairs and find your glassware and whatever else you could possibly want or we can trek through the sample rooms and look over their cool ideas. What do you want to do?"

"I'm in it for the whole experience," he told her.

"Then sample rooms it is." She bussed her side of the table and led him back through into the store. They wandered the bedrooms, the small apartments, the kitchens and the living rooms, threading their way through the maze that was the store. It took Gold a moment before he noted the overhanging signs that helped customers know which way to go. He kept up with Emma, even waiting while she occasionally got distracted by some clever organization schema or an elegant piece of furniture. They actually discussed which of the kitchen designs they liked. Emma went for cool, sophisticated and futuristic style with stainless steel and marble. Gold surprised her by preferring things warm with wood and white porcelain.

"Your tastes are a lot like Belle's," she told him. "French country, farmhouse style."

"Really?" he hadn't known that.

They finally made it to the stairs going down to the ground floor. Gold was greeted with an enormous selection of glassware, tall, short, beer, goblets, juice, tea. He didn't know what to get. Emma pointed him to some tall glasses, some beer glasses and some juice glasses. He got three dozen of each. He also picked up some plain white nine-inch plates.

"What happened to all your glassware, anyway?" Emma asked him, packing his selections onto a small cart.

He paused and answered shortly, "They broke."

Emma waited. There was nothing more forthcoming. _All right. He was going to be that way. _

He continued to wander through the store, looking over the linens and the lamps. She only lost him twice. By the time she finally caught up with him, he'd added in some eco-light bulbs and some magnetic spice containers to his stash.

They then entered into the warehouse area. He wandered around in this area, even though he had no interest in buying any of the furniture.

"We need to go ahead and get in line. There's always a wait here," she told him.

"Like Walmart," Gold observed.

"Pretty much," Emma agreed and stood with him while they tediously inched their way to the register.

Gold paid cash and he and Emma lugged his purchases out to his car. It was a quarter after four.

"Back to Asheville?" Emma asked him.

"You have another suggestion?"

Emma considered. "Nah, let's head back. Now, do you want steak or not?" she asked him.

He considered and slowly admitted, "Yes, I do. Where would you suggest?"

"The Red Stag is pretty nice, but I suspect we don't want to go there."

"Why not?"

"It's in the Grand Bohemian Hotel. I'm guessing that's where your ex-wife is or will be staying."

"Have you heard something?"

"Nope, but if I were her and coming to town, that's where I'd go."

"Okay," he agreed. "Then where?"

"You in for some big money?" Emma asked him.

"I think I can absorb the shock," he told her smoothly.

"Then the Sunset Terrace at Grove Park Inn," Emma told him.

"We need reservations, I assume. Let me make a call," he deftly hit a few buttons on his phone and Emma heard the one side of his conversation.

"Get me a reservation for two at. . . " he glanced at Emma, "The Sunset Terrace at Grove Park Inn, for this evening for around seven." He paused. "Whatever it takes. Let me know if there's an issue, otherwise I'll assume we're set." He clicked the phone off.

"Now just exactly how does that work?" Emma asked him. "You just pick up the phone, call somebody and they make it happen for you?"

"Pretty much," he was noncommittal.

"Damn," said Emma.

She didn't say much more to him on the ride back, leaning back in the seat and closing her eyes. He had obtained the address for the restaurant and entered it into his GPS. Once there, they had no problems getting into the restaurant. Emma felt under-dressed but noted that Gold, even in his jeans and t-shirt, still had staff falling over themselves to make sure he was taken care of. She shook her head. The man with his casual clothing and his generally unkempt hair and beard, still managed to exude an aura of power and money. The staff seemed so pleased to have him there for dinner and were willing to do anything, anything they could for him and his young lady guest.

Emma picked over her filet mignon. They were sitting on the restaurant's namesake terrace, looking over a great view. Emma figured the meal was over two hundred dollars, easily. Gold hadn't blanched at forty dollar steaks.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her after watching her push her food around on her plate.

"That these people are probably thinking I'm your mistress," she finally said.

"Or some hired girl I've picked up for the evening. I told them that you were my niece."

Emma groaned, "Yeah, that's original," she said. "I wish I could stand on this table and tell them that we're almost, sort of, just friends. That you regularly blackmail, I mean, extort me into taking you places around Asheville. How does Belle manage the people staring? Knowing what they're thinking about her? What was it Milah had called her? Your tart-du-jour?"

Gold considered. Did it bother Belle? He had certainly noticed men looking at her but he had assumed they were admiring her luscious ass, or her shapely legs, or her excellent, exquisite breasts. Were people thinking she was a whore, his whore? It had never occurred to him. "I. . . I don't know," he told Emma. "She always seems to be looking at me when we're out together. I've seen plenty of people looking at her, but I thought they were admiring her. I've never seen her looking at other people when we're out."

Emma shrugged, "Well it's all probably me. I'm not used to classy places and I'm feeling very uncomfortable. And being out with you, like this, well, it almost feels like a date, not like when we stopped to get a hamburger or barbeque. I felt like I was your equal there, not like you were taking care of me."

"You're uncomfortable with someone taking care of you?" he asked.

Emma dropped her eyes. _He'd apparently hit a nerve._

"Oh yeah," was all she would answer. Emma remained in her glum mood for a short time, but she was too feisty to remain down for long and started calling him "Uncle Bobby" before the evening was through.

But he thought about this the rest of the evening, on the drive back to the apartment, on the way up to the apartment. Emma had helped him haul the glasswear over to the elevator and left him to his own devices to get it into the apartment. He piled it all on the counter.

Belle had already settled in and was curled up in his bed. She appeared asleep, wearing her white cotton panties and a short, thin sleeveless undershirt. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so desirable. _Did other people look at her as if she was his whore? Did she ever feel that people were looking at her that way? _

_Good god, he ached for her. _

He undressed and slid in next to her, pulling her over to him. She roused slightly and reached around him.

"Is Emma all right?" he heard her ask.

"Yeah, she's fine," he told her.

"Good, it was a long trip and I was afraid one of you would kill the other." She sniffed him. "You had meat," she told him. It wasn't a question.

"I did. Emma made me," he confessed. "Belle," he wanted to ask her, he had to ask her.

"Yes, yes?" she was kissing him on the chest, light, feathery kisses.

"Belle, are you ever bothered by going out with me, having other people see us together, having other people think I'm your . . .uh. . .you're my . . . uh. . . mistress?"

"Of course not, you goose. I love going out with you. I love being your mistress." She sleepily told him and now he was feeling her tongue tracing around his nipple.

_That was good enough for him. _He easily stripped off her clothes, taking away any defense she might have cocooned around herself. He prepared himself for her. And still, even mostly asleep, she welcomed him between her legs, catching her breath as he slowly, carefully entered her. He moved in her deliberately, finding her small whimpers incredibly exciting. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her lips. He could feel her kissing him back. He shifted her position to ensure she was getting stimulation and increased his pace. She was holding him, clinging to him. He felt her legs shift and, the next thing he knew, she had lifted her legs around him, encasing him, squeezing him, holding him to her.

There was a soft cry and her body rocked in his arms. He continued, riding her to his own satisfaction.

Afterwards he held onto her. He didn't think of her as a whore. Never, ever, ever.

He hadn't bothered counting his cigarettes. It wasn't important right now. _And Emma hadn't let him smoke anyway._

_Twenty days down, twenty-two to go. _

**Thx to narciscia, The Prince's Phoenix, TcEm, cheesyteal'c, Stargate533, Blueberrysuite7, Aletta-Feather, Estrany, , SakuraBlossom58, The Auburn Girl, TeamTHEFT, juju0268, Hermitess, MyraValhallah, Lattelady, Grace5231973, Samzi, Just 2 Dream of You, thedoctorsgirl42, WastefulWaif, Mini Nicka, and Leafena (sorry I haven't been able to get back with people individually – will stay swamped at work until the beginning of June, so I'm struggling to keep up with the writing. I promise I read each and every review, listen to people's concerns, likes/dislikes and am truly energized by your comments. Glad people liked the bromance and, I noticed, that some of you are starting to make guesses regarding Jones's role.) txm**

_Next: ok so I don't have a draft of this next chapter (I'm that far behind), but next chapter should include a little Sunday morning celebratory breakfast, Gold making use of his new souped-up blender to make lunch for Belle, and Belle opening up about what happened to her on Saturday. If the chapter is not running too long, it may be about time for Belle to make her own moves on uber-controlling Mr. Gold (this would be smutty). _


	21. An Invitation

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**The Invitation**

**Chapter 21**

He stirred.

He stretched.

He breathed deeply.

This was a good morning.

Belle was still lying next to him in the bed. Well not actually lying _next_ to him. She was on her stomach, half sprawled on top of him, with one arm and one leg draped across his body and her head cradled on his shoulder.

He began to gently kiss her forehead, down her nose, around her mouth.

She stirred.

She smiled.

She lifted herself up and looked down at him, her rich brown hair tousled and curling around her face.

_Beautiful._

_Lovely._

_Glorious._

"Are you all right?" he asked. _As he recalled he hadn't been particularly solicitous the prior evening, too anxious to have her, yet worried if she somehow was feeling sullied by their association, having people see her as his trophy-date, having them thinking that she was just a trifling amusement for a rich man, bought, paid-for, paid-off. _

"Well, of course," she answered.

_What she was really to him? _

_Oh good grief, she was everything. _

"I'm glad. Very glad," he managed to respond.

"You asked an odd question last night," she told him.

"Did I?" he was beginning to kiss his way up her arm, beginning at her wrist.

"Yeah. Was I all right with being seen out in public with you? What was that about?

"Oh, that was Emma," he explained. He was focused on her soft skin and had made it about halfway up the inside of her arm.

"What was Emma?" she persisted, _but didn't pull away._

"She told me she hadn't minded going into family grills and barbeque joints with me, but felt self-conscious going into the high-end restaurant." He was almost to the inside of her elbow, a delicate, tender, sensitive point of her anatomy.

"Why?" Belle really didn't understand.

"She felt like people were thinking she was my whore for the evening."

Belle pulled away and was silent.

"She wondered how you handled that feeling," he finished. _Damn, he'd gone and fucked it up._

Belle sat up. "I don't have that feeling when I'm out with you. I'm not even aware that people are looking at us. I guess they would, maybe because you are a bit older than I am, and very attractive, but it's not like you look like Mr. Deep Pockets right now."

"But if I did take you somewhere and other people there knew I was . . . rich, that would bother you?"

She considered, "I don't think so. I'm not usually bothered by other people's judgments, especially when they don't have all the facts. I'm still not comfortable with you spending money on me, even though I know you can. . . easily. I don't want you to spend money to show me how you feel or to impress me. I prefer that you use your words, use your actions to show me your feelings." She was smiling at him now. "That's why I especially like the earrings and the shoes you bought for me – you got those because you really thought I would like them, not to impress me with your wealth – and that was sweet."

"I'm sweet?" _No one, never, ever, ever, had ever called him sweet._

"You can be," she was still smiling at him _and all was right with the world. _

"Oh," she sat completely up. "We need to get up and go on down to Jefferson's. We're all getting together for our usual Sunday morning breakfast. This is kind of a celebratory meal, for James getting out of the hospital and doing so much better."

He put his hand on her thigh, slowly running his fingers up towards her hip.

"Any reason why we couldn't be a little late?"

"Well, we don't have to be there until eight. We have an hour," she told him, not moving away from him.

"I'd like to use some actions to show you how I feel about you. How do you feel about shower sex?" he asked her. _He needed to tell her, to tell her how important she was to him. That she was more than just sex for him. So much more. _

"Not experienced with it, as you should know," she gently chided him.

"Let's fix that," he told her and planted a kiss on her thigh. _Just once more into the brink. Then, then he would tell her._

Belle was curious as to how he was planning to accomplish The Act in the shower. She dutifully followed the man into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water, stripped off their nightclothes and then pulled her into the spacious bath/shower. The steam quickly began filling up the room and soon they were both soaking wet from the shower nozzle.

They stood under the warm-to-hot spray. He took some of her lavender scented soap and a wash cloth and, wetting the cloth, lathered it up.

"First I'm going to help you and then you're going to help me," he smiled wickedly at her.

"Is that how this works?" she asked, her eyes sparkling just a bit.

"That's how this starts," he instructed her, running the soapy washcloth down her arms and her body, lingering on her breasts, moving her around to soap her rosy bottom cheeks.

"Lift your leg up for me," he directed her. She stood facing him and complied, bringing one leg up as he caught her foot in his hand. She braced herself against the shower wall while he began soaping her, beginning at her foot and working his way up her calf and shin, then her thigh, moving softly around and around the interior of her thigh. He stopped just before it got interesting. "Now, the other leg," and again she allowed him to slowly massage her with the soapy cloth, and again the man stopped just before she wanted him to.

"I usually shave my legs and other things in the shower," she managed to tell him.

"Then let's take care of that," he told her. He reached out of the shower, the spray going out of bounds into the bathroom itself and he pulled her little pink razor out of the box that sat above the commode and handed it to her. "Go ahead."

She quickly shaved her armpits and then ran the razor along both legs, the soap acting as a perfect shaving lubricant.

"There," she told him, handing the razor back to him.

"You're not finished," he gave it back to her. "I think you have some other 'things' to shave. Let me soap you up some more," and this time he applied the warm, wet cloth first to her lower stomach but then quickly moving down, reaching her feminine cleft and down between her legs. He massaged the area slowly, turning her around and pulling her back into him so that he was now rubbing her most sensitive areas, taking a slow delight in using the cloth on her clit, rubbing, teasing, stimulating. She unconsciously widened her stance to give him better access. He worked her over very slowly and she began to feel a familiar sensation building.

"I think you're ready to use the razor, my dear," he said softly into her ear, his brogue hitting her like the purr of a motor, going right into her own quickening heat.

"Yeah?" she wasn't sure she could do this but dutifully, turning to face him, she began to run the razor along both sides of her slit, getting the wider area where some of the soft brown hairs were trying to emerge and then, very slowly and carefully, she began to shave directly between her legs. She couldn't help but notice her red and swollen clit.

"Spread the lips alittle, there are some small hairs there," he told her, standing back a bit and watching her through the shower spray.

She did, embarrassed to be opening herself to his gaze but following his directives, separating her legs, and using her fingers to pull the lips away from her clit while she carefully ran the razor along herself.

"Now give me the razor and turn around. I will help you get the hairs that grow further back." She handed him the razor and bending her over, keeping her legs spread he very gently shaved the area all the way back to her tiny rosette.

"Excellent, now you are smooth as silk," he murmured and then he handed her the washcloth.

"And now you wash me," he told her.

Taking a deep breath, trying to regain some control over herself, she took his odd patchouli soap and lathered up beginning at his neck and working her way down his chest. He tended not to keep his hands to himself as she tried to focus on her job, often distracting her by cupping a breast or slipping his fingers between her legs. She finished his chest and back and took care of his shoulders and arms.

"Can you lift your leg for me?" she asked as he had requested she do for him.

He shook his head, "I can't balance on that one leg. You'll have to do from your knees."

"Then lift the bad leg first," she told him.

"I don't want to and I'm not going to," he told her firmly and gave her his closed mouth smile _almost a smirk_.

She couldn't help but smile back at him _the bastard._

She knelt down, the shower spray continuing to brake over them, and began applying the soap to his feet, his ankles, his calves and knees. This was one of the few times she was really able to take the time to look at his bad knee. Multiple scars, including suture scars, like there'd been damage and then some surgery. She gingerly touched it. The knee cap looked to have been broken into several pieces. It looked like someone had smashed it and then kept smashing. _Poor baby. _

She was now up to his thighs and his erect member was on level with her cheek. She attended to his butt cheeks first. _The man had an amazing hinny, taut, muscled, perfect._

Well, now, all that was left was the jutting extension, now hard, proud and quite, quite firm, all that representing his interest in her. She traced her fingers down his length and he actually quivered. She debated actually applying soap to it, but decided against it.

She'd had a better idea.

A much, much better idea.

And before he could protest or stop her, she was kissing him, starting near the root and working her way up the shaft, her mouth encasing him. She felt him grab her hair and heard him gasp her name, "Belle.'

He had stopped her before, in her efforts to go down on him, but not this time. He allowed her to use her mouth to kiss, lick and suck on his engorged cock. She managed to put the head into her mouth and gently began to suck. She heard him groan and, encouraged by his response, she began to try to take him down her throat, using her hands and fingers on the lower shaft, that part that she wasn't able to take into her mouth.

He tasted absolutely deliciously, a faint saltiness, a sweet musk, she wanted to take him all in, but he was much more of challenge than her high school boyfriend who had never managed to quite reach this state of . . . interest.

She began to move back and forth on him trying her best, not quite succeeding, in taking his entire length down her throat, but still very much enjoying herself and, she thought, given the guttural sounds and the feel of his hands clenching her hair, he was enjoying himself also.

It was much too soon, when he pulled her off of him.

"I don't want to come down your pretty throat and I'm about to do just that. Stand up," and he pulled her to her feet facing him.

He held her still while he debated. "No, wall sex in the shower is a younger man's game, and a man without a bad knee," he shook his head. "Turn around," and this time he bent her over but, after considering this option, he quickly pulled back her up and turned her back around to again face him, "Damn wench, you'll need to stand on a box for me to take you in that position." He was looking down at her, his eyes dark with passion and his breathing ragged. She began pressing kisses on his chest and his neck.

He made a decision and pulled several towels into the shower, rapidly folding them up. "Squat down," he commanded and she complied, still facinghim, surprised when he too went down onto his knees, placing the sopping towels beneath his injured knee and kneeling in front of her. He began to back her up and when she could go no further, he abruptly lifted her by her butt, his arms supporting her weight while he backed her up against the wall.

"Wrap your legs around me like you did last night," he told her and, _damn the moment but bless him for remembering to sheaf himself,_ she felt him begin to slide into her, her back now completely against the wall of the stall. Her arms went around his neck and she braced herself. They were both still getting soaked. He slowly lowered her onto his entire length and she found herself impaled on the man. Pushed up against the hard wall, Belle found herself being pounded and forced into submission. Holding onto him, Belle found herself looking directly into his deep brown eyes, now with darkened enlarged pupils. Then he was kissing her, amazingly gentle given what his body was doing to her. She began to come undone.

He felt her shuddering and held tightly to her, controlling her shivering, channeling her response back into her body, intensifying the event. He heard her cry out and felt her clinging to him, so warm, so soft. He continued his own quest, now easily within reach and released himself. He continued to hold her under the pouring water, feeling her legs come down and her wet body begin to slide from his own relaxed grasp.

As she lounged in the floor of the tub, he heard her murmur, "Well, so that was shower sex. I think I can recommend it."

He removed the condom and grimaced a moment before reaching outside of the shower to toss the implement into the toilet. "You can't get on a different birth control too soon to suit me, my dear. I very nearly forgot to take precautions."

She put her hand on his now docile member. "Would that be such a terrible thing?" she asked.

He didn't move, the hot water still pouring down on them both.

"Well?" she asked.

"You would risk having my baby?" he asked, clearly disbelieving what she was saying.

"Would that be so terrible?"

He paused, recognizing that Belle was still deep in the afterglow of passion and doubted that her reasoning was clear. "We'll need to talk about this when we are both . . . " he reached over and turned off the shower. "dry," he finished.

He pulled himself up and then put out his hand for her.

"We'll have to hurry if we don't want to be late," he told her.

Ooo00ooO

Emma, Jefferson, Peter, Wendy, Ruby and Ashley were all already there. Mary Margaret was purposely delaying their arrival, wanting James, the unsuspecting guest of honor, to be surprised when he walked in. Gold and Belle had managed to get there and join the others before James's arrival.

Emma's sharp eyes quickly took in their wet hair and Belle's flushed face. She pulled Gold aside, "Damn man, you can't keep your hands off the woman, can you?"

"Should I be trying to?" he wasn't sure about this, but it didn't make sense to him not to take advantage of everything Belle was able to offer him.

"Give her a rest. Give her a change to initiate," she told him.

"How do you know she didn't?"

Emma glared at him, holding him in her gaze.

He caved and shrugged, "OK, so I like to be on top," he informed her and turned away to talk to Jefferson.

_We'll see about that, _Emma told herself and she made a decision, moving over to chat with Belle.

Gold caught the two women talking to each other_ his eyes rarely left Belle for more than a few seconds when she was in the same room_. Belle was leaning in to hear what Emma was saying. He could see her shake her head and then look puzzled. She seemed to be asking Emma a question and he saw Emma nod. _What the hell was Emma up to? _

He didn't have any longer to contemplate the matter when Mary Margaret and James walked in.

Everyone yelled, "Surprise," and quickly let him know that this particular Sunday morning brunch was in his honor.

James was obviously overwhelmed, completely surprised and very appreciative of the outpouring of affection. Jefferson had gone all out in fixing a vegan breakfast feast with muffins, tofu-frittatas, fruit salads, granola, and oatmeal soaked in almond milk. After everyone had gotten their plates and sat down, James stood up.

"I've got to thank everybody for everything they have done for me and Mary Margaret. I heard how many of you stayed up at the hospital, some of you helped with subbing at Mary Margaret's shop, and," he glanced at Gold, "one of you got a car to get me home in comfort, had the elevator fixed so I didn't have to hop up stairs, and babysat with me a whole day when I'm sure he could have found something better to do." He raised his glass to Gold and the group followed suit.

Gold suddenly realized that everyone was looking at him and toasting him. He was tongue-tied. He hadn't expected this. _These people, toasting him, smiling at him. They didn't know him. They thought they did, but they didn't, they couldn't. All the things he'd done. _He dropped his head, acknowledging their tribute but not comfortable accepting it.

It was a pleasant breakfast with several of the attendees sharing how good it was to have the 'family' back together. Gold felt odd to realize that, for better or worse, he was now a member of this little group.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was early afternoon and Belle was focused on her personal finances and had gone back to her apartment to do some routine cleaning up. Gold was involved with putting the glassware into the dishwasher (and was practicing his shagging steps as he moved back and forth from the counter to the dishwasher – he felt he was getting better). He had unpacked his new superblender and began thumbing through the accompanying cookbook for dinner recipes. He hadn't gone grocery shopping, so he knew he would have to make do with what he and Belle had on hand. He pulled out the cookbook. Remembering the television show, he found the recipe for carrot tofu ginger soup. That he had ingredients for. He also put together a strawberry caprese salad and a tomato bruschetta and, finally, a cantaloupe-honeydew-cucumber smoothie. He set the table and waited for Belle, getting in just a little more dance practice while he waited.

She was obviously impressed. Even more impressed as she began tasting the soup, the salad and munched on the bruschetta on French toast. She then took a sip of the smoothie.

"This is delicious," she told him. "I had no idea you could cook."

"What cook? I can read. This is all just chopped, blended, pureed and toasted."

He gestured toward the counter and Belle got up to look at the black and silver device. "What did you do?" she asked him. "You've been ordering more stuff, haven't you?"

He smiled at her and nodded. "This looked so much nicer than the one I'd gotten from Walmart. " He got up and began explaining the finer points of his new kitchen appliance. "The engine is powerful enough to propel a small boat," he told her. "It's a bit loud but it pulverizes whatever I put in it. It will cook things and freeze stuff, not at the same time of course. I'm making us peach sorbet for dessert," he ended up telling her.

Belle had to smile. He was the most complex man she had ever met. So many interests, always intense and submerged in the moment. She was completely surprised by his enthusiasm for 'cooking,' but then considered that she really shouldn't be. She had already learned that he was capable of precision focus and everything he did, he did with everything he had to offer.

She was enjoying her sorbet _and not relishing what she was going to have to tell him_.

Gold was watching her, always amazed at how beautiful she was and that she wanted to spend time with him. _He had to tell her how he felt._

"Belle," he began, just as she said, "Bobby." They both laughed. He gestured to her, "Ladies first."

"Bobby, I have something to share that I'm not sure how you will like hearing."

"Belle, please, feel free to tell me anything," _except that you want me out of your life, _he reassured her.

Belle dropped her eyes and slowly began. "Yesterday, while you were in Charlotte with Emma, someone came by the shop."

He froze. And waited.

Belle met his eyes again. "There was a commotion outside of the shop and I saw a crowd of people. There were cameras and people shouting. It looked like someone was in trouble."

"So of course, you went out to see what was happening," he commented.

"Of course." Belle waited a moment before she could go on. "Then _she_ came in the store."

He didn't have to ask who _she_ was. He took it in, nodding, "Yes," he managed to respond neutrally.

"I felt I had to admit I knew who she was. She would have been hard not to recognize. And I asked if she needed a place to get away from the crowds for a moment."

"And she said. . . ?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Belle answered. "So I got us both cherry Italian sodas and took her into my back room, where I handle incoming shipments. You haven't been back there. There's a big table and a couple of chairs. There a couple of windows so it's bright and rather nice. I had her sit down."

"And then she drank the soda, thanked you and left?" he supplied.

"No, she sipped the soda and confessed that she actually knew who I was and. . . "

"You asked her politely and firmly to leave?" he asked.

"No, she apologized for calling me a 'tart-du-jour,' telling me her producers had insisted on the phrase and she hadn't wanted to use it."

"_I know how compelling Bobby can be," Milah had told her. "He is still one of the most exciting men I've ever met. And if he's determined to court to you, he's impossible to ignore."_

"_He is that," Belle had agreed._

_Milah had given her a shy smile, _"_I'm sorry you've been dragged into this situation. You're innocent and being used to sell my silly television show."_

"_I actually watch your show, with my friends," Belle had confessed. "It doesn't do you justice. You are beautiful on the show, but you are so much more lovely in person."_

"_You are too nice," but Milah had seemed flattered. "I was expecting you to be absolutely beautiful – Bobby never went for anything less than the most beautiful woman on the block. . . or in the city. And I see he did it again."_

"_Well, you seem much nicer than you are on your show," Belle had ventured._

"_Oh no, on the show, I'm made to look vain and shallow and . . . ," Milah shrugged, "much of the time, I really am vain and shallow, sorry to say."_

Belle continued, "We had a nice conversation. We were very polite to each other and said pleasant things back and forth."

"What then, this was before she slipped some poison, some hypnotic, some expurgative into your drink? I think she keeps something in one of the rings she wears."

"No, but I . . . I did something I don't think you'll like," Belle confessed.

"You slipped poison into her drink," he suggested. "I thoroughly approve. Here, I'll help you dispose of the body."

"No, I. . . I," this was going to be hard.

"_I can't believe you're really vain and shallow," Belle had contradicted Milah kindly. _

"_Oh, but I really am. Everything Bobby's told you about me, if he's told you anything, is almost certainly true." Milah paused and her eyes looked sad, "Has he told you anything about me?"_

"_I knew you were his wife," Belle answered, not comfortable with sharing Bobby's crockery-fueled meltdowns, expressions of hatred and threats, both vague and specific, directed towards his ex-wife. Belle had then hesitated and asked, "Do you have any friends. . . around?"_

"_Oh god no. Bobby was a pretty demanding husband and I never had time for friends."_

"_Really?" Belle had asked her. _

_Milah had smiled at her. "Well, you've got to know that ours became a not-so-good relationship. He got where he always wanted to know where I was, who I was with," and then she had shrugged. "There was this cycle thing going on. The more he tried to control me, the more I would sneak around and I got to the point that I was really being unfaithful to him and then, of course, he would get angrier and more controlling. I certainly wasn't going out with any 'girl' friends while I was married to him, that was for sure."_

"_That sounds awful," Belle had told her._

_Milah had sighed and continued, "And now, with Killian, well he does encourage me to get out more, but I seem to have lost the knack for making girlfriends. Killian often suggests we go to different places and tries to get me to meet new people. It was Killian who insisted we come here to the mountains for the wedding. I don't know anyone here. He'd said he had been here before awhile back and thought I would find it reminiscent of home. Oh, and then when the producers found out that Gold was here, that was all it took. They thought that we might be able to precipitate a confrontation between Bobby and me and that would make great copy for the show." _

_Belle must have looked disapproving. _

_Milah had managed to look contrite, "But I really don't want that. Our marriage became so stressful and then the divorce was so awful and messy." Milah had stood up. "But this will let you know how truly vain and shallow I am. As long as the alimony comes through I don't really want to see the man again. I know he still pays the taxes on my houses and still handles my investments, but I don't need to see him again. I don't want to." The woman looked so sad, so lonely, so . . . so. . . . so friendless._

_And Belle couldn't help herself._

"I asked if she wanted to come over Wednesday and watch the show with me and my friends."

"What?! Belle, why the hell?"

"I felt sorry for her. She's one of those women who gets wrapped up in the men in her life and doesn't have anything going for herself. I thought it might be good for her to get out and just be around other women and I knew you wouldn't like it and knew you would probably be mad at me and maybe even shout at me and tell me I was stupid and played into her hands and. . . and. . . " Belle's large, bright eyes, had filled with tears.

Gold sighed. He'd been ready to shout at her, though he doubted he would have called her stupid, but he would have said that she'd played into Milah's hand but . . . but. . . this was Belle. If anyone could see good in Milah, it would be Belle. Seeing good in people, was what she did. She couldn't help herself.

He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths. "You won't mind if I absent myself. You ladies are welcome to use my apartment."

Belle brightened up. "You aren't mad at me?" she asked.

"Yes I am," he admitted. "Not dish-breaking mad, not not-speaking-to-you mad, not I-don't-want-to-sleep-in-the-same-bed-with-you mad." _It was a damn, fool thing to do, but I know, I understand why you did it. _"She's not bringing the cameras, I hope."

"Oh lord no," Belle answered him and she had rushed him and was wrapping herself around him, kissing him on the neck, standing on her toes, trying to kiss him on the mouth. "You are the dearest, sweetest, most understanding man ever."

He caught her wrists in his hands and pulled ever so slightly away from her. _Now, now was the time. _"No, I'm not, but you are one of the two most important people in my life right now. I think you are so wonderful and amazing and I can't imagine my life without you. Helping people, being nice to people; it's not who I am, but it's who you are. And I . . . " he dropped his eyes and released her wrists, "I love that about you. I love everything about you."

And now Belle was actually crying.

"Oh Bobby, I never thought I would ever feel about anyone the way I feel about you. I promise, I will try not to be so impulsive and invite these people from your past back into your life again."

He smiled at her and shook his head, "Belle, you are always going to try to reach out and help people when you think they need help. You are always going to look for the good in people. And if I can't accept that. . . well, if I want to have you in my life, I'm going to have to accept that."

_It turned into a very pleasant evening. _

_He counted. He'd started the day with ten cigarettes and had four left. _

_Day twenty-one, twenty-one days to go. _

It was the half-way point.

**Thanks to all my faithful reviewers: The Prince's Phoenix, Grace5231973, Rumbellelove4eve, Samzi, Via (Guest), cheesyteal'c, TcEm, Stargate533 , Just 2 Dream of You, thedoctorsgirl42, Leafena, Vacumatic, TeamTHEFT, Lattelady, Hermitess, NicoleMuenchSeidel, and especially to RoxyMoron (another new reviewer). You guys keep me going (two more weeks of evening classes, and then the day job through June and the work pace slacks up - whew!). **

_NEXT: Cora and Gold have an uncomfortable conversation_

_Belle makes a move (finally – I really hope I get to this; I know I thought I would get to it in this chapter but the shower scene bumped it). thx everybody. txm _


	22. Making a Move

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Making a Move**

**Chapter 22**

Belle had left out early again . . . or maybe he had just started sleeping in later. He got up, fed Susie, The Cat, a second breakfast, shaved, showered (not nearly as much fun as the previous morning), dressed and went on out.

Belle actually took the time to make his coffee this morning as he had gotten in before Ruby had shown up. Emma then came by, gave him a smile and dropped off some pastries. Belle brought him a sugar-crème scone.

He ate quietly, petting The Black Cat from time to time. He enjoyed his coffee. He enjoyed his scone. Hell, he enjoyed The Cat's company. He watched Ruby come in and don an apron spotted with rampart poodles wearing aprons with rampart poodles wearing aprons with rampart poodles and so on. He watched Belle as she stirred around the shop, setting things up in apple pie order. She wasn't clumsy here; she moved around the book displays like she was in her element.

Well he'd put it off as long as he could. He sighed and made a phone call.

The woman on the other end of the line was irritated, really irritated – apparently he was calling her before her rising time. _Good, he really didn't mind irritating her._

"Yes, dearie, I heard you were looking for me," he told her.

Amazingly the irritability faded immediately and the woman was purring. _Making herself so agreeable, was she? _

Belle couldn't help but overhear his end of the conversation.

"A meeting, huh? Well, I can't do anything this morning. I have to get my walk in." There was a pause. "Yeah, doctor's orders. Then I have my yoga class. . . uh hum. . . uh hum. . . uh hum. . . Well, then I usually make myself a power smoothie and relax for an hour or so. . . uh hum. . . uh hum. . . well, then I get lunch. . . Lunch? Well, that might work. . .Maybe. . . uh. . . Rosetta's Kitchen? Yeah, it's on Lexington. . . At 12:30? Yeah, that could work. . . See you then. Meet you out front of the restaurant? . . . No, I don't think we'll need reservations. . .Look forward to it."

He hung up and caught Belle looking hard at him.

"That was Cora you were talking with, wasn't it? You didn't just invite that woman to Rosetta Kitchen for lunch, did you?" Belle asked him dismayed.

"Why yes. I thought she would enjoy the ambiance," he gave Belle his smuggest smile.

Belle was trying to picture Gold's upscale business rival in this particular setting. "That's a vegetarian, mostly vegan, restaurant. One of their chefs is Rastafarian! She'll stroke out!"

He nodded at Belle, "With any luck. And it's likely I'll be running a bit late which will probably not help her mood." He stretched. "There's no need to hurry. Restaurant's not going anywhere."

Belle shook her head but asked him, "Bring me back Everybody Eats, please. With slaw."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Gold did take his time that morning. He walked the city, went on to his class, returned to his apartment for one of his green power smoothies and then slowly meandered down to the restaurant. He strolled up to the restaurant more than ten minutes late.

She was waiting out front. . . pacing. So obviously pissed. And still not recognizing him. _This could be fun._

He paused and leaned up against the wall near the door. He watched her pacing, looking at her pricey watch. She fished down into her very expensive, very exclusive pocketbook and pulled out her phone. His phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket. "Yo," he answered.

She spun on him. "Gold?"

"Yo," he answered again and nodded at her.

"Is that you?" She walked over to him, closely scrutinizing him. "Oh my god! It _is _the King of Scotland. What the hell happened to you? I'd heard you'd had a breakdown but I had no idea." She managed to look actually concerned.

"I'm on vacation," he told her, switching off his phone.

"But that should mean lounging by a hotel pool, getting a massage, having a cocktail. Not wearing jeans, growing a beard and going completely native." She couldn't hide the disdain she was feeling.

"Why not? I'm relaxing and that's the important thing."

"It looks more like you've had a complete psychotic break," she moved in to stand very close to him. "That's the rumor you know. That after the divorce was finalized, you just lost it. Lost your judgment, your edge. Went ballistic with your gun and overdosed on god knows what."

"Yeah, I know about the rumors. Fortunately my shareholders only believe their statements and the money is still coming in. It was at about 18 percent return last week, so nobody's complaining," he shrugged her off and led her into the restaurant, maneuvering up the narrow staircase.

Cora, in her Manolo Blahnik red-soled heels, carrying her Birkin bag, wearing her high-end Chanel suit, stood out amongst the worn blue jeans, flowing skirts, t-shirts and tank tops, low-end sandals and laid-back attire of the other customers.

He steered her towards a small table with two chairs set off in one of the alcoves. A tattooed, well-pierced waitress handed them their menus. Gold glanced at the menu and then looked at the waitress. "I think the lady will need a moment," he told her.

Cora looked over the menu. "I don't know what the hell this stuff is. Is this real food?" she asked him acerbically.

"It's whole food. I've totally changed my eating habits since coming to this town." _Well, mostly._

Cora poured over the menu and shook her head. "You order for me then," she told him in disgust.

He just smiled and when the waitress made her way back over to them, he began, "The lady will have the pulled portabella barbeque sandwich and I'll have Everybody Eats with tortilla chips and a side of the sautéed kale. Water?" he asked Cora who shook her head, yes.

Gold nodded at the waitress. Then he sat back and looked Cora over. _The woman still looked pretty good. Well put together. Excellently preserved. She looked a good deal younger than what he knew she was. Probably had had some plastic surgery and likely had a personal trainer. . . probably a personal chef. _

He waited.

She began to fidget, drumming her dark red, manicured nails on the table.

He continued to wait. She was the one who wanted the meeting.

"Bobby, I have missed you," she finally said.

_So she was going to try to be nice to him. Interesting opening volley._

"I would think you would have your husband and your business to keep you occupied," he took a sip of his water.

She graced him with a smile, "Now you know, there is no one who can cut a deal like you. You were always the best."

"Uh hum," he acknowledged the compliment.

Cora managed to wait until their lunches came. Gold then went ahead and ordered Belle's lunch to go. Cora was clearly having some difficulty containing herself.

She finally spoke up, "I want Cricket," she told him.

"You can't have it," he answered her and took a bite of his rice and beans.

She poked at her sandwich.

"I've offered them quite a lot," she informed him.

"And I've told them I would double whatever you offered plus a guarantee of a percentage of the future profits."

"Really? So that's what cooled their interests? You believe that much in their little device?"

"I do."

"Okay, then. Consider this. How about I add to your buying price and get a percentage of the profits? That would defray the risk factors you're running, just in case it doesn't take off."

"It's going to take off," he said quietly. "And, just in case we wake up tomorrow in Bizarro Land, I could still absorb the loss of the buyout without it hurting me. It then becomes a bad investment and a tax writeoff. For me, it's win-win."

Cora sampled a small bit of the barbeque. She didn't appear to like it. He took another bite of his beans and rice.

"I have some backers who are very anxious. They really want me to stop Cricket."

"I know. So does Cricket; that's why they've decided to go with me." _Not completely true, he knew, but this was business and all was fair. _

"Is there _any_ price?" He knew Cora well enough to know she wasn't backing down. She was asking what his opening bid might be. She wanted to know where she could start negotiating with him.

"No," he told her.

She shifted uncomfortably. She leaned forward, revealing a little of her soft, generous cleavage. "Bobby, I want in, if I can't have it all, I still want something."

"How much?" _At last, they were moving towards some concrete figures. If he could satisfy her, it would remove the last obstacle for his take-over. She was the last power player left on the field._

"Twenty-five percent."

He laughed and shook his head. "Listen, right now, seven percent goes to each of Cricket's owners, that's forty-nine percent. I have the controlling interest of fifty-one percent. I could consider you for half a percent."

"That would be a joke," she protested vehemently. "Ten percent."

"Half a percent," he repeated, his voice firm.

"Five," she counter-offered.

He stopped a moment. "Two percent, you're a partner with no voting rights but your backers get first dibs on the technology as it relates to their field."

"I want that deal with voting rights," she told him.

_Could he risk it? The two percent would come from his fifty-one percent. Conceivably if all the techno-boys and she joined together, they could out-vote him. It was a chance. He was potentially giving up control. But he was gaining a company he knew would vault to the top of the market. And what were the odds that all seven of the little nerds would ever come together on one idea and then also be on her side._

"One percent and you can have voting rights," he answered.

She considered. "Two percent and no voting right," she capituated.

He smiled _he had won,_ "I'll make the call and have the contract drawn up."

She held out her hand to him. He took it. _Not so long ago, he would have kissed her palm and then her wrist. And she would have hopped up on some table and spread her legs for him. And he would have stepped in between her legs. And taken what she was offering him._

Cora was studying him. "So it's true," she said.

He was surprised, "So what's true?" He had a sinking feeling that he knew what she was referring to.

"One of the other rumors floating around about you, besides the one that you went off the deep end, is that you have become besotted with some little piece of tail here in Asheville. The word is that she has put some kind of spell on you and has you wandering around in a daze."

Gold almost smiled at this. "Pretty accurate, although I tend to think of the young woman as a real lady and not 'a little piece of tail'," he corrected her. "And if I'm under a spell I have happily surrendered."

Cora narrowed her eyes. "Interesting. That explains why you were a complete pushover today. Two years ago with this deal, you would have told me to fuck myself and then would have likely bent me over and fucked me."

"That was two years ago. Things change," he told her. He had a sudden realization. "That's all I ever was to you, wasn't it? Just a quick fuck?"

"Not all. You were an excellent fuck and there was never anything quick about you."

"But I would have given you my heart, my love," he confessed to her.

"Love makes you weak," Cora instructed him.

This time he shook his head, "I believed that once. I really did. I'm starting to believe that love makes you strong."

Cora rolled her eyes in complete disgust. "Well, I hope you're happy," Cora was being sarcastic, but this time Gold did manage a little smile.

"I think I am," he told her. He paid the bill leaving sixty dollars and instructing the waitress to give herself a ten dollar tip, take care of the portabella sandwich and then use the overage to go for their Everybody Eats program. He picked up Belle's take away box and escorted Cora out of the restaurant.

"You staying in town or heading back to New York?" he asked her.

"Staying in town for a little while. You may have heard. My daughter is here with your ex-wife."

"I was aware Milah was in town," Gold responded wearily.

"She's still a piece of work, that ex-wife of yours," Cora remarked.

"She is a hot mess." _Great descriptive expression – Emma had used it to describe Milah at some point._

They were back out on Lexington. Cora looked him up and down. "I still think you had a breakdown and I think that you're still broken. If there is anything I can do to undermine the confidence of your stockholders, I will do it," she promised him.

"I'm sure you will. I would expect no less," Gold lifted her hand. Two weeks ago he would have placed a delicate kiss on her fingers. He squeezed her fingers, "Goodbye Cora, have a lovely time here in Asheville." He left her standing outside the restaurant as he took a left and sauntered back down the street.

00000-00000

"How did it go?" Belle asked him as she came back into his apartment. He'd been there awhile.

Gold had made a grocery store run after his appointment with Cora and picked up some things that he wanted and some things that Belle had asked him for. He had experimented, downloading directions and tried his hand at making some bread to go with the meal. Then with his new pantry stash on hand and pulling items out of the rooftop garden, Gold had again fixed them supper, still cooking simply, making an uncooked fresh tomato spaghetti sauce which he put over some whole wheat pasta and topped with some newly grated parmesan. He'd put together a simple lettuce, tomato, cucumber and green pepper salad and had dabbled with making his own blue cheese dressing.

"It went excellently," he responded to Belle's question. "She got something she wanted and I got something I can live with."

Belle nodded. The man looked relaxed and happy. The food reflected his new style, simple but delicious.

"I'm blown away with this meal, Bobby."

"I seem to have discovered a new talent," he told her. "Before, I was able to cook ramen and make sandwiches but I never knew I could do more than that. And our kitchen faucet's leaking."

"You are talented," Belle agreed. "And you'll need to get to a hardware store and replace the faucet," she told him.

"Sounds like a Saturday adventure," he let her know. "I'll have to see if Emma can help me out again."

Belle watched the man eat, his long, slender fingers moving through the motions of feeding himself with surety and power, like he did everything. She knew well the capabilities infused in those fingers, what they were able to do, not just to video games or cooking but to her body. She felt herself getting warm. He smiled at her over the table. _She wondered if his thoughts were running along the same lines that hers were. _

He spoke up first, "I brought some things in for you to have when Milah comes over Wednesday. Her favorite red wine, some cheeses, some crackers and some fruit. And I found some olives and marinated mushrooms."

"Is this for me or for Milah?" Belle asked astutely.

Gold bit his lip. "I don't want her to think that I'm pining for her, because I'm not. I do want her to think well of you."

"So her feelings are still important to you?"

Gold sucked in his breath. "I guess. . . in some ways. I want her to think that I'm doing well, emotionally managing things, you know."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Do you have to ask?" he asked her. _Could she not tell? Did she not know?_

She smiled at him, shyly.

"Would you, would you. . ?" she couldn't finish.

"What?" he asked her, not unkindly.

"Indulge me," she finally was able to get out.

"Of course," he answered without thinking it through.

"Come with me then," she told him and led him into the bedroom.

_Well, he was all for anything she wanted to do in the bedroom._

She grinned at him and removed his clean, white t-shirt. She tenuously pushed him back down onto the bed.

Then she hesitated.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, being very cooperative.

She was clearly unsure of how to proceed. "Would you. . . would you. . . . close your eyes?"

"I would," he answered and complied, curious as to what his lovely girlfriend was up to.

"Still ok?" she asked anxiously.

"Still ok," he reassured her. _What was she up to?_

"Now, lean back and get in the center of the bed. I'll help you," and she guided him so that he ended up on his back in the center of the bed still with his eyes closed. He felt her climb on top of him, still clothed, kissing his chest, his neck, his chin and his lips. He kissed her as he could and raised his hands to hold onto her.

She caught him by the wrists and, as he generously allowed her to control his movements, she was able to raise his hands above his head. She continued to kiss him, running her tongue inside his lips, distracting him. He lifted his head to kiss her back and gently pulled against her soft hands that were still holding his wrists up.

"Stay still," she ordered him. "It will be nicer," she whispered. "Just for a moment, hold still."

He complied and then abruptly, suddenly felt the cold metal on one wrist and then, very swiftly, on the other. His eyes popped open.

"What the hell?!" He tugged on his wrists. Belle had put a pair of handcuffs on him with the center links running behind one of the bars on the headboard. She had fastened him to the bed, shackling him down. He pulled roughly against the cuffs and quickly ascertained that he wasn't going to be able to easily free himself.

"You were supposed to keep your eyes closed," she told him, slightly miffed.

He looked up her. She was still straddling his stomach.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her, his eyes had darkened and his tone had become sharp.

"Trying something different. You've told me how when someone is strong and in control, when they give up that control, how powerful the experience can be."

"I talk a lot of crap, Belle. What do you think you're doing?" he asked again.

"I wanted you to have that experience," she told him.

"You think I'll enjoy it?" he asked. There was an edge on his voice. "You think I'll enjoy this." He rattled the handcuffs.

She trailed her fingers along his chest. "If you want me to let you go, really, really want me to let you go, then you need to say, "Belle, I really, really want you to let me go"," and she added, "please."

Gold looked at her, his eyes narrowing. _She had just given him a way out. If it got too intense, too much, too extreme. . . he could stop it. It was more than he had ever offered to her._

Belle waited, holding her breath. If he asked her to let him go. . . Well, she would. She would die of embarrassment¸ but she would let him go.

"You understand, Belle, that you will have to let me go eventually. You understand that there will be repercussions, consequences and . . . uh. . . what you might call . . . revenge, for this little act. This type of thing has a price."

"Revenge, huh," said Belle, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek, the chin, the neck, the chest. _He wasn't going to ask her to let him go._

He was having a little difficulty catching his breath. "Uh huh. Probably something. . .uhm. . . sexual."

He heard Belle murmur as she kissed his stomach, just above his belt line, "Is that right?"

He felt her hands on his belt, unfastening it, then unsnapping and unzipping his jeans.

Then she stopped.

"Belle?" he asked. _What was she going to do now?_

She sat up, considering. "I think this might work better." And she got off the bed and rummaged around in his closet. She came back with a line of fine black silk in her hand. It was one of his ties.

"I think this was one that you used when you tied me up. Perhaps I have another use for it." And she leaned forward and began to wrap it around his eyes. He was now lying in sensuous darkness, unable to sit up, to get his hands on her, to hold or push her away.

"Remember, you can get me to stop anytime," she reminded him.

_Why would he want her to stop?_

He felt her hands unfastening his sandals and pulling them off. Then she shifted his jeans off of him, pulling them down from his rear and then down his legs. His boxers followed.

He felt her hands on his legs, his thighs, his hips. He felt her fingers, exploring, tracing, delicately, surely.

He realized he was holding his breath.

"Tell me more about this sexual revenge," Belle directed him softly and he felt her hand go around him.

"Oh, I think I'll let you wonder just what I might do. I'm more experienced than you and I have some ideas of some things that I could do that would drive you right to the edge, but not quite let you go over."

He could feel her breath. She was very, very close to him. "Are there really such things?" she asked him.

"Oh yes. We haven't used any toys but there are some interesting devices that. . . uh. . . should you continue to pursue this action that I might want to consider. There are some things that you would wear until I chose to take them off of you or. . . perhaps I should say. . . out. . . of you."

"Tell me more," he heard Belle say.

"Well there are some that. . . " he found he couldn't talk anymore. She had wrapped her lips around him and was gently sucking and doing something interesting with her tongue. "That will offer . . . uhm. . . uhm. . . " He began to gasp for air and pull on the cuffs. He wanted so badly to put his hands in her hair, to control her movements, but he couldn't. He tugged on the cuffs but they did not give. "Belle, release me, let me help. Let me. . . ." he was panting and realized he was lifting his hips, thrusting up into her mouth. She couldn't quite take his length down her throat but she was valiantly trying. She was still managing to massage him, creating the most warm, most moist sheathing for his turgid member. He didn't think he could take much more.

He heard himself begin to plead with her. "Please, Belle, I'm going to come. I'd prefer to come in you, not down your throat. Please. You don't have to. . . You can stop now. . . You can . . . You can. . ."

Belle lent herself to her efforts with renewed effort. She certainly was affecting him. She could tell he was straining against the cuffs. And his upward thrusts seemed to be mostly involuntary.

It was only several minutes longer and then she felt him tremble and jerk and her mouth was rapidly filled with his seed as he spasmed repeatedly into her, groaning. She managed to swallow and continued to suck on him until he seemed to relax and grow smaller. She licked him clean and then kissed her way up his stomach and across his chest. She nestled into his side.

"You are going to release now me? Right?" he asked her. _What more could she possibly want him to do?_

"Later," her voice was a soft throaty whisper. "I want you to get all hard for me again and then I'm thinking I might want to ride you, maybe even thinking about taking off the blindfold so you can see me. You always seem to like to watch my breasts bounce up and down when you make me come on top."

"Twice?! You want a man my age to get ready for you twice. I mean I've done you quite a few times but it's been an evening and then a morning," he protested weakly.

"Maybe three times. What do you think?"

"Woman, you are going to kill me," he pulled again on the cuffs.

"Still planning on those repercussions?" she asked him.

"More than ever," he answered her darkly.

She didn't say anything more, but the bed shifted and he knew she had gotten off. It was only a moment and he felt something cool on his cock, still flaccid and quite, quite satisfied for the moment.

She began to massage the something cool, which rapidly became something warm, directly onto his cock.

"What are you doing?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. Being in the dark intensified his feelings for sure. He could only accept her actions, not anticipate, not expect what was happening.

"Shhh," she told him, still massaging.

There were a few moment of agonizing silence. The warmth spreading. He felt he was actually beginning to respond. _Damn, that was quick._

"Belle?"

"Be still," she told him, not stopping her attentions.

"Well I can't really go anywhere," he told her caustically.

"You like this?" she finally asked him.

"It's warm," he responded neutrally.

"Too warm?"

"Maybe alittle," curious as to what her response might be. There was another moment, some shifting and then he felt it.

Cool, no, cold, no, ice cold, settling in small trails against his length, against the heat. He knew he had become rock hard almost instantly. _Too many sensations._

"Belle?!" He was beginning to move up against her, trying to get more friction, trying to pump himself into her hand. "Please, Belle, please."

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"Oh god, I want you. Please, Belle. Give me some relief."

"Still planning on those repercussions?" She had stopped and he thought the top of his head would fly off.

This was it. The power exchange. He gritted his teeth. "Hell, yes."

He heard her low laugh. "I thought you might be," and then he felt her quick actions, wherein she slid on the condom and then there was blessed, blessed warmth descending on him as she straddled him and took him into her heat, the slick passages enveloping him and cushioning him.

He was too far gone. Without the control, he couldn't stop himself and gave in, surrendering, crying out as he had so often made her do for him. When he finished, he dropped his head back and his hands ceased to strain against the cuffs. He felt the tie removed from his eyes. He squinted against the light, dim as it was, his eyes unused to it. She was still connected with him, sitting with her knees on each side of him, looking down at him. She was wearing one of her little sleeveless cotton undershirts, clearly showing the contours of her breasts, the darkened nipples hardened with their stiff points poking against the thin fabric. He licked his lips. One of those pert little nipples would feel just right in his mouth right now. Maybe he could get her to lean forward.

"Now, that was not as satisfying for me," Belle pouted.

"You'll have to give me a while, my dear. I haven't come three times in the space of two hours since I was in my twenties. . . maybe my early thirties."

She slipped off of him and disposed of the condom. Then she came back to clean him up with a warm cloth. She leisurely ran the cloth around his member and his balls.

"Shift your legs so I can clean you there," she directed him and he dutifully complied. He held his breath as she handled his most sensitive equipment, but she managed to be both firm and gentle.

"Of course, I haven't seen that many men, well, only one other, but you look pretty good to me," she told him. She handled his cock which had returned to its very satisfied state. "I like seeing how amazingly this changes." She petted him. She leaned forward and kissed him on the tip.

He was surprised when he felt an inkling of interest. "Belle, let me go and I promise, I'll get you some satisfaction tonight, right now, right away. I just need to use my hands, my mouth."

"Uh hum," she answered him dreamily and made no effort to unfasten him.

"Come on Belle, you've had your fun. This was very nice. Now let me go," he told her.

"You be a good boy, just one more time, and I'll let you go," she promised. And then she removed her little undershirt.

He had no doubt as to what she meant by being a 'good boy.'

She was lying next to him and he could feel her plump breasts nestled against his arm. She had one hand gently holding him, rubbing up and down just a little. She began to kiss him on the shoulder, on the chest and the neck. As he could, as she would get close to him, he would kiss her back.

It did take him a little longer this time, maybe a half hour, but persistence won out and altogether with Belle's gentle persuasive touch, her sweet kisses, her shamelessly rubbing herself against him, all in all, he was able to salute her once again. This time she didn't tease him, but sheathed and then mounted him, leaning forward to get enough friction for herself, slowly, hard riding him until she felt herself building and spiraling and exploding around him. She was panting and gasping for air as he continued to push up into her, seeking his own final destination.

"Good boy," she told him. "Come for me, come for your Belle," she whispered into his ear, kissing and licking him.

It was enough and he lost himself within her again.

He was too tired to make any grand gesture when she finally unfastened his hands. He did stretch and wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over to lie under him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a bit of concern clouding her usually bright eyes.

"Never better," he managed to assure her. "You know you're supposed to tell me how well I did for you, how proud you are of me and how pleased you are with me."

Belle's eye's widened, "I am? I didn't know that. Well, you did, and I am and . . . I am." She paused a moment, then slowly asked, "Do you. . . do you think you might want to do this type of thing again, maybe without the handcuffs?"

"Have you in charge?" He kissed her nose. "I can't very well say that I didn't enjoy myself, now can I? But," he was serious, "it is very, very hard for me to give up control. We'll have to work on it. Now, where the hell did you get all this stuff?"

"Well Ruby lent me the warming lotion and suggested I use it with some ice chips. Emma was the one who lent me the handcuffs. She was the one who suggested I might want to try something a little more. . . adventuresome. I was surprised when she gave me the cuffs. I'm beginning to think that she is an undercover police officer or into some kinky stuff."

"Or a little of both," Gold responded. _Well now, Ruby was a slut, but he had already suspected as much there. Now Emma. So Emma had provided the impetus and the method for this little adventure. _

_Emma was a dead woman. _

_As for Belle, he had no doubt what he was going to do to her. _

_But Emma would require something special. He would have to give this some thought._

He didn't care how many cigarettes were still in the pack.

_This was day twenty-two, twenty more to go_.

**Thx to my incredible, insightful, ever helpful reviewers: Leafena, The Prince's Phoenix, Rumbellelover, RoxyMoron, Stargate533, WastefulWaif, thedoctorsgirl42, Raspberry Not Pink, Lattelady, RaFire, cheesyteal'c, juju0268, Samzi, MyraValhallah, narciscia (hope you liked how I handled the Cora closure thing), TMM7, Grace5231973, DruidKitty (times 3), Blueberrysuite7, ctdg, TeamTHEFT, Vacumatic, Just 2 Dream of You, YukaTheDemon1, Girlyemma96 (times 2), NicoleMuenchSeidel, Hermitess and Rumbelle4ever**

**And Guest (I do have some ideas of bringing these four women together for some interesting discussions – not soon, but sometime and I try to update everything Thursday morning). **

**Sorry to tell people, I will probably have to skip the next Thursday morning update due to too much life in the way (six hour drive to move my son to his new place/job, papers from my course to read and grade (plus some fanfiction chapter updates from many of you people that I actually want to read and review - so much more interesting than the course papers), and then there's about eight work-related reports for me to finish up, two evenings with exams to administer, plus dropping blood numbers (not good) and so I need to take a mini-breather. Hope to be back on track the following Thursday and hoping this doesn't lose momentum (and readership). Please hang tough with me. thx so much. txm **

_NEXT: Milah the Shoe Savant _

_A most welcome visitor _


	23. Fine Games

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 23**

**Fine Games**

It was the sweetest moment he'd had in a very long time, a very long time. He'd awakened early with Belle still snuggling, still lying partway under him. One of the last things he remembered was reversing their positions and pinning her to the mattress beneath him.

The woman had managed to exhaust him. . .

and he had been delighted.

She stirred and her eyes blinked open. She smiled up at him, "Good morning."

He smiled back. _The woman was remarkable. How did he get so lucky? Whatever did she see in him? _"Morning Sunshine," he greeted her back.

She scrunched her nose at him. "Are you ok with me, with what I did?"

_Still so unsure of herself, still so unaware of her own allure. _"I'm ok with you, with what you did. It was an amazing and unique experience. I haven't ever been put in such a position in. . . well, ever."

"We'll work on it, as you'd said. I think it was good for both us." She reached up and pulled him down so that she could kiss him right on the lips. It was a gentle, intensely intimate moment. She sighed, "I gotta get up, grab a quick shower."

"Need company?" he asked her archly.

She shook her head. "Not this morning, you lustful imp," and she reluctantly left the bed.

He lay by himself in the warmth of the sheets.

Belle came out of the bathroom, dressed in her plain white underwear and slipped on a flowing skirt and simple tank, her usual outfit. She twisted her damp hair up on to the top of her head and added a little pearl barrette. She put on some mascara and some lip gloss and was all finished up. _He remembered watching Milah take an hour, even longer, with her hair and makeup routine, and she still didn't come out as beautiful as this woman. Maybe, part of it was that Belle had no idea how beautiful she was. Maybe it was because Belle was beautiful on the inside, too. _

"Plans for today?" she asked him before slipping out to her store.

"Not really, breakfast, walk, then I'll probably sit at your store and read a book."

"Sounds quiet and restful," she told him.

"I hope so, yesterday was a bit stressful."

"Cora?" she asked.

"That and my girlfriend handcuffed me to the headboard and had her wicked way with me."

Belle blushed. "You seemed to enjoy it."

He grinned back at her. "I did. I'll admit I did."

She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "See you in a bit when you get down," she told him.

After she left, he stretched and got his own shower. When he came out to the kitchen he saw Susie sitting by her bowl.

"Expecting something?" he asked her and the little white and yellow cat meowed at him in reply.

He opened her second can of food for the morning and petted her. She looked at him but went back to her eating, tolerating his touch.

As he finished dressing, he saw the metal cuffs that Belle had used on him the night before laid on a nightstand. Smiling, he pocketed them. _He would have to get around returning them to Emma._ And the cuffs reminded him that he had promised Belle some sweet revenge. He knew exactly what he wanted for her. This was one call he would make for himself. He wouldn't want this to go through his concierge.

The morning started just as calmly as he had anticipated. Coffee, scone, black cat, another atrocious apron (pickles dancing with knives – _it made no sense). _Then came his morning walk, and back to select a book from the store to buy and read. He was sitting in the shade on the outside deck by the store.

The first person he saw that he recognized coming into the store was a gleeful Wendy. She was running and came up to Belle, squealing and jumping up and down.

He could hear Wendy talking about something, about someone. Someone was coming to Bele Chere. He saw Belle nodding and talking with the teenager quietly. Wendy seemed to become more and more excited the longer Belle talked with her.

Wendy gave Belle a hug, then skipped out of the store. Gold signaled Belle to come out to him. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Wendy found out about a certain singer who is coming to town. A young woman, you may be familiar with her, Ariel. A while ago, she was third runner up on _American Idol_. She's from Asheville. I knew her before she became famous. She feels she owes the town a great deal and always tries to make it back for the festival. She'll be playing on the bandstand they set up on this street."

"Ariel? She's a little red-headed girl?" he knew something about her.

"Oh yeah, and that red hair is her natural color."

"Makes her quite the extraordinary beauty," Gold observed.

"You've heard of her, then?" Belle asked him.

"I believe I own her, I mean, her contract that is."

"Get out?!" Belle said. "Really?"

"I diversified more than a decade ago and part of what I bought into were certain companies who were involved with entertainment. I have major interests in a publishing company, a recording company, a television network, all under one roof."

"Wow. So you're kinda her boss, then?"

"Kinda, I guess," he answered.

"Nice," Belle told him. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked before she went back inside.

"Pretty much. I like these days with no drama," he told her.

_He thought later that he'd probably jinxed himself. _

He was still relaxing, thinking about walking down the hill back into town to find some lunch for himself and Belle when _they_ came along.

Milah and Regina, both dressed to the nines, headed into the front door of the shop. He caught Regina giving him a sidelong glance and then a double-take. _She had recognized him. Smart girl._

Milah hadn't given him a second look. She had gone on into the shop and was chatting with Belle. He kept an eye on them as he could without looking like he was keeping an eye on them. His Harlan Ellison anthology was really more interesting.

He could tell there was an animated conversation going on between Milah and Belle. Neither woman appeared angry.

Regina on the other hand, kept giving him dirty looks. _And if looks could kill. . . What had gotten her panties in a wad? She'd certainly done well for herself as one of his apprentice attorneys and then made more than enough money out of his divorce. not to mention the astonishing boost that it had given to her career. She was now one of the most highly sought after divorce attorneys in the country. _

_Oh shit!_

Regina had left Milah and was heading right towards him.

"Gold. I wasn't sure it was you at first. You look like crap," she told him, coming over to sit by him.

"Well, thank you. Always a pleasure talking with you," he responded caustically. _What a bitch! Like mother, like daughter._

"What are you thinking?" she demanded. "You've let yourself slip."

"I'm on vacation," he shrugged, giving her his standard reply.

"Growing a beard, dressing like you're homeless. That's not a vacation. A vacation is relaxing in a hot tub, having sex with the pool boy and drinking margaritas."

"Each to his own," he wasn't going to argue with her. "Never been much on having sex with pool boys myself."

A shadow fell over them.

"Bobby!" it was his ex-wife. "I actually didn't recognize you."

He looked the woman over. It had been awhile. Other men might see her beauty and be swayed. But he knew too much about her to fall under her spell. _Never again._ "What do you want?" he asked her.

"Just a quiet chat," Milah turned to Regina. "If you don't mind, darling?"

Regina glared at both of them, "I think I should stay, just in case."

"No, I need you to go. I just want to chat with the man, please," Milah held firm and Regina reluctantly went back into the bookstore, often turning to look at them as if she were afraid they would start striking each other or Milah would verbally agree to something that wasn't in Regina's best interests.

Milah had sat down by him. "You actually look pretty good, like you did in the old days. But I don't know about the beard," she looked him over closely and smiled at him, "All you need is your old black leather jacket. You used to wear it everywhere."

"That was in Scotland, dearie. The weather there was more amenable to a leather jacket," he commented. "What do you want?"

"Want? Do I always have to want something?"

"No, but you always do," he told her.

She paused for a moment and then agreed with him. "I guess I do." She smiled sweetly at him.

_He wasn't buying it. She was never this nice. And she was never one to come out and just ask for what she wanted. She always had played games. Well, he'd be damned before he would give her another cent. . . or house. . . or whatever it was she was wanting. _

"Well, this time, I don't want anything. I've been making plans for my commitment ceremony. And I came to apologize to Miss French for calling her a name on my show. And to thank her for inviting me over tomorrow night to watch the show. She seems very nice."

Gold did not respond. He didn't want Belle's name to come up between them.

Milah continued, oblivious to the dangerous path she had taken, "And when I saw you, I just had to come over and speak. How's your knee?"

"Bearable," he gave her a short answer.

"When I got to this town and saw all the hills you have to walk up and down, I was worried about you. But I see you are wearing good shoes for a change. That should help. What are those, Orthoheels? I saw Miss French wearing a pair."

"They are."

"There sure are a lot of sensible shoes in this town. I've seen more Ecco's, Naot's, Dansko's and, of course, Birkenstock's in a five block radius than I've ever seen anywhere else. Watch with me," she told him, and proceeded to share with him what shoes Belle's staff and customers were wearing. "The barista has on some Umberto Rafini's, I think the line is Amani. That customer is wearing, well I think those are ABEO's, they're very similar to the Ecco sandal Chiappo. I'd have to get really close to see the details. Now that woman is wearing a three hundred dollar pair of Mephisto's, an excellent dress shoe."

Gold couldn't help be a little surprised at how good Milah was at this activity, "I don't understand. You can remember every type woman's shoe on the east coast but you couldn't remember to pick up my dry cleaning or our son from daycare."

She didn't lose her cool, "I guess some things were more important to me than others. And the daycare thing only happened once."

"It was part of a pattern of self-centered, callous disregard. . ." Gold caught himself and took a couple of deep breaths.

Milah remained unruffled. "If you're going to tell me that I was a terrible, horrible mother, I think you've already said everything that could be said on the subject. Now I just sat down here to be civil, to compliment you on your new girlfriend and let you know that I'm glad you seem to be doing all right. I would think you could at least try to be nice."

Gold closed his eyes a moment. He considered fleeing the scene.

"Does she know how you used to treat me?" she asked quietly.

"I've told her. I try to tell her everything. We try not to keep secrets from each other."

"That must be very difficult for you," Milah said with some surprising insight, "you were always one of the most secretive persons I'd ever met." She thought a moment, then added, "Maybe not secretive. Maybe it was that you were so damn self-sufficient, that you didn't need anyone, that you didn't have to rely on or get help from anyone," she reflected a moment. "But you're sharing now. Probably that's a good thing. You never shared with me, never shared anything with me." She sat quietly for another moment. "But we did have great sex."

Gold almost smiled. "We did. But great sex is not enough to sustain a marriage."

"You have more than that with this Miss French person?" she asked.

_He really didn't want to talk about Belle with this woman. _He shrugged.

Neither one of them had heard the young man come up to them. They were so intent on ignoring each other.

"Now this is what a child of divorced parents wants to see. His parents having a civilized conversation."

Both of them turned and stood up.

"Bae, you made it!" Gold said reaching out to the young man and giving him a quick shrug.

"Dad, if we hadn't been skyping, I don't know that I would have recognized you." He turned to Milah, "Mother, you look fantastic, as always."

Milah had a bright smile for her grown-up son and he graced her with another hug.

The three stood a moment talking.

"I didn't know you were coming to Asheville," Milah told him. "You never tell me anything."

"Mother, you know I try to call you at least once a week, but most of the time you aren't available. I'd told Dad I was going to try to get down here, at least for a little while."

"I'm staying at the Grand Bohemian, in the Biltmore Village," Milah let him know.

"Probably I will be too. Maybe we can do breakfast one morning."

Milah made a face. "Maybe we can do lunch one day," she corrected him.

Bae smiled, "Whatever you say." He sat down and his parents followed suit. "Now. . . what brings you two together."

"Your mother was just showing off her shoe savant skills."

Bae nodded, "I remember you could do that. Hey, what am I wearing?" he held up one of his feet.

Milah glanced at them, "I'm not as familiar with men's shoes, but those are clearly Nike's. Anyone could tell you that. I'd guess some kind of trainer."

"Mother, you're a genius," Bae was laughing. "How can you remember all that, but forget to pick up your kid from daycare?"

"That was just the one time," Milah protested. "Both of you just won't drop it, will you?"

"Mom, it was traumatizing," Bae told her. "Left there after everyone else had gone home."

"You were getting ice cream when I came in. . . "

Gold said quietly to Milah, "After I finally reached you and raised hell."

Milah shot him a look and then turned back to Bae, "You knew all those people and weren't the least bit upset. Quit trying to make me feel guilty."

Bae acquiesced, "OK, I'll drop that little episode. After all, I have many other things to make you feel guilty about. How about the time you promised me you were going to bake a cake for my birthday and we ended up with a bunch of cookies held together with a couple of cans of frosting."

"Your friends loved it," Milah continued to protest.

"Well, then how about that time you took me shopping for my school clothes and you found a sale on handbags or something or another and left me in the changing room. I had to get the Mall cops in on that one."

"What?!" It was apparent that Gold had not heard about this particular bit of parental laxness.

"Oh, she bought me a hundred dollar Lego set to keep me quiet."

"You were ok with that at the time," Milah reminded her son.

Bae continued, "Well, then how about. . . "

Milah interrupted him, "I don't have to stay and listen to this Milah-bashing. I was a wonderful mother and if you have any problems now, then it's all your father's fault. I can give you a long list of _his_ shortcomings." She had stood and nodding to her ex-husband and son, she turned to leave. "Give me a call and we'll do lunch sometime Bae." Then she went back into the store, gathered Regina and left.

"That was fantastic. I saw how you played her," Gold said. "It was masterful. I couldn't think how to get rid of her, especially when she wasn't going to be forthcoming about what she actually wants."

"Maybe, Dad, she doesn't want anything this time."

Gold shook his head. "I'm not believing that." He sat with his son in comfortable silence for awhile. "There is someone special that I want you to meet."

"Belle French?"

Gold nodded. "You probably walked by her if you came through the store."

Bae looked into the store, through the door that separated the outdoor seating area from the building. "Is that her?" he asked his dad.

Gold looked in and Belle was chatting with Emma who had likely finished her rounds and had come by for a soda."

"Yeah, it is."

"Da-amn, she _is_ gorgeous. I'm jealous you saw her first. I can't believe that she wasn't attached to someone already."

"Neither can I. Belle would tell you that it was meant to be."

Bae shook his head, "I never thought you'd go for a blond."

Gold was puzzled, "A blond? Oh no. That's Emma Swan, one of her friends. Belle is the petite brunette with the pearls in her hair."

Bae sat a moment staring at the two women. "Well, she's gorgeous too but tell me about Miss Swan is she seeing any one attached to anyone is she a lesbian a hooker what can you tell me?" it all spilled out of him in one long sentence.

"Pretty sure she's not seeing anyone. She's definitely not a lesbian. Don't think she's a hooker. But Bae . . ." he cautioned his son. "I wouldn't take up with her. She's very strong willed and stubborn," he faltered a moment, then finally added, "And she bites."

Bae was grinning. "Really? I'm going in to meet her. If anyone wants to know, I'm one of your employees, a Neal Cassady." He left his father and went into the bookstore, tipping over a display unit on top of Emma, causing her to drop her soda, then apologizing profusely and insisting on buying her another drink. _Pretty smooth. It looked entirely accidental. _

He watched them together. It was with a slow awareness, but he realized that Belle was watching him watch the couple. He knew he must be appearing to be overly interested.

_Oh damn, Belle was coming out to talk with him. He knew well why Bae wanted to keep his identity secret. But he was also trying his best to be honest with Belle._

"I see Milah has left. Her attorney is quite high-strung, isn't she?"

Gold nodded, "Sorry you got stuck with her but Milah wanted to chat with me." Anticipating Belle's question. "No, I have no idea what she's really wanting. She talked about shoes."

"Shoes?"

"It's what she knows about," Gold replied wearily.

"And who's the young man?"

Gold hesitated. "I have a moral dilemma, Miss French."

Belle's face was full of concern. "Please do tell."

"The young man is not what he seems," Gold told her.

Belle squinted her eyes at Gold. Then she looked back at the young man who was having a tete-a-tete with Emma

Gold dropped his eyes and sat quietly, "He goes by Neal Cassady."

Belle leaned in to him. "Oh please, you're talking with a woman who has a degree in library science, owns a bookstore and is extremely well-read. You think I wouldn't recognize the name, from Jack Kerouac's _On the Road? _Ah, but you aren't supposed to say who he really is, are you?" Belle sat back and looked at the young man again. "I saw you, Milah and the young man hugging on each other. He's your son, isn't he?"

When Gold looked contrite, Belle added, "And he doesn't want people to know who he is. The same little game you played when you came to town." She was smiling. "All right, I'll keep his secret, but you've got to introduce us."

Gold risked a look at Bae, now in close quarters with a giggling Emma. _Good lord, the woman was touching her hair, dropping her eyes shyly and laughing at every little thing his son was saying. She reached up to brush his shoulder._

Sitting next to him, Belle watched her best friend and her lover's son talking, "She definitely likes him." Belle smiled wickedly at Gold, "You'd be ok with Emma as a daughter-in-law?"

Gold groaned.

He saw his son and the little ATF agent leave together. _Damn. He liked Emma, but not sure if he wanted her as part of the family. She was such a stubborn, aggravating female. _

Bae called him later that afternoon. "Dad, she's amazing. Sweet, intelligent, funny, strong, independent, absolutely delightful."

"If you say so," Gold told him.

"I do. I've got a date with her tonight. She wanted to go home and shower and I'll connect with her at six thirty."

"Fine. I'm sure she'll suggest some nice place."

"Hey, can we do breakfast tomorrow?" his son asked him.

"Absolutely. You know where I'm living. Come on up at. . . what. . . seven o'clock?"

"Sounds good. Now I've got to go and get ready to pick up Emma."

Gold considered his options. So Emma was going on a date with his son and she was planning to get a shower. _This could work_.

He went up to the second floor. He had a master key for the apartments in his building _and even if he hadn't, he was quite capable of picking the lock, a vestige of his misspent youth_. He could hear the shower running. _Excellent._

He found her gun and removed the bullets, pocketing them. He surveyed the apartment. It was a lot like Emma herself, nothing girly, nothing unnecessary, straight, to the point, and everything functional _and somehow still beautiful. _He then sat and waited.

Emma had wrapped a towel around herself, and was not paying attention when she came out of the bathroom. When she saw that someone was in the apartment, she immediately vaulted for her gun and trained it on Gold.

But, when she saw who is was, she lowered the gun and set it aside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I wanted to show you something."

"It couldn't wait? I'm kinda on a schedule here."

He shrugged, "Well, go ahead, don't let me stop you." He gave her a quick smirk.

Emma rolled her eyes at the infuriating man.

"What I have to show you will only take a moment," he told her.

Emma took a deep breath. "OK then, let's make it snappy."

"With pleasure," he stood and gestured for her to follow him. They went into her tidy compact kitchen. "Look at this," he now motioned towards her refrigerator.

She looked, "What? I don't see anything?"

"Put your hand here," he tapped the pull on the refrigerator.

Emma did, "What? I still don't see anything."

"How can you not. . .?" he began, sounding exasperated. "Here, close your eyes, you may feel it then."

Emma looked at him, licked her lips to cover her nervousness, but she complied.

It took less than a heartbeat and she felt the cold metal go around her wrist. Her eyes flew open and she jerked her hand away.

But he was expecting such a move and countered, forcing her arm back against the fridge door and quickly putting the other cuff around the sturdy fridge handle.

Emma threw a punch with her left hand and would have landed a clean blow to his midsection had he not handily blocked it. She then aimed a kick up against his bad knee but he had already stepped away.

Emma began to use her most colorful vocabulary, describing Gold, his character flaws, his poor choice of ancestors, his likely lack of sexual prowess along with a string of just generally profane monikers.

Gold couldn't help himself. He was most impressed. Emma had quite a range.

"What the hell game are you playing at?" Emma was still ranting and still trying to get the man into striking distance. "You unfasten me, you son of a bitch! Take these off of me!" she was screaming at him, swearing, twisting herself around without effect.

Gold told her placidly, "Now the key for the cuffs is here," he put the keys into a bowl that was on a short table by the door and then dropped the bullets into the same bowl.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I think you know why, Emma. Stay out of my bedroom."

"Ohhh, so Belle took my advice," there was a certain level of smugness in her voice.

He didn't answer her.

Emma tugged vainly on the cuff. "I see. Well, you better let me go. You leave me here like this and I'll be coming after you to kick your ass. I'm not letting you get away with this."

Gold had his back to her and his hand on the doorknob but stopped at that point. "Well, if you're going to kick my ass anyway, I might as well make it worth my while." He walked back to her and quickly reached out and jerked the towel off the little blonde.

Emma nearly screeched, "Stop, what do you think you're doing? Give that back to me."

Gold didn't linger. He turned away from her, not allowing himself to be tempted to leer at the well-toned curves that his abrupt actions had revealed. He went on back towards the door. Still keeping his back to her, he told her, "I know you have a date coming around six or six thirty, so I'll leave your door unlocked. Good luck with that."

He was smiling when he left Emma, handcuffed to the fridge and naked.

0000o0000o0000

He was practicing his dance steps, waiting for Belle to come in for supper when there was a knock at the door. Cautiously he opened the door, keeping the chain on it. It was just Nurse Lucas.

He opened the door for her and she began her usual check up, check on and check out routine.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him while taking his blood pressure.

"Pretty good at the moment," he admitted. _He knew Emma would likely be lying in the tall grass and waiting for him, but he was good for the moment._

Nurse Lucas wrote down his blood pressure and told him that Dr. Hopper was probably going to change his medication. His blood pressure was going down and he could go with a lower dosage. Then she asked, "What's your alcohol consumption been like?"

He thought back, "Minimal, some days none, at most a single beer or a single glass of wine." Then he came clean, "Although I do plan to get thoroughly arse-over-tits drunk tomorrow night."

Nurse looked at him, not asking the question, but expecting an answer. She began the process of taking a blood sample.

"My ex-wife is coming over to be with Belle, Emma, Ruby and the other girls. They are going to watch her reality show together."

He thought that the nurse was going to laugh at his predicament, but she just sighed, "How ever did that happen?"

"Belle invited her," he replied.

"Your current girlfriend invites your ex-wife over?" Nurse Lucas shook her head, finishing up with the blood sample. "Well that can only come out well for you," she said sarcastically.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Well now I can certainly understand what's driving you to drink. Now, how's the smoking going?"

"I am smoking less than ten, but more than five a day. I can't seem to break the five cigarette threshold."

"Well that's better than the, what? two packs a day you smoked before?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Well, I know you're exercising and eating right."

"Trying to, yes ma'am," he agreed. She handed him the cup and a paper bag. He took care of the undignified business and returned the bag to her.

As the nurse prepared to leave the apartment, she gave him a big smile, "Your ex-wife, huh? That's got to suck."

He heartily agreed. "You are a very understanding woman." He let her out.

00oo00oo00oo00

Belle came in, in time to enjoy his latest culinary creation, gazpacho soup with a crusty French bread. He followed this with sandwiches filled with homemade pimiento cheese.

Belle dug in. "You are amazing," she told him, her eyes closing as she savored the soup. "This is delicious."

"Ina Gartner's recipe off the Internet," he gave credit where it was due.

She chatted about her day in the store and he shared much of his day, _omitting the part where he handcuffed her best friend to a refrigerator and . . .ahem. . . took her towel. He felt like he should probably tell Belle, but . . . well, he didn't want to._

They finished off the meal and cleaned up. Gold then asked Belle to help him practice shagging.

Belle went to one of her Pandora stations and she and Gold practiced in the living room. As the sun went down and the mountain air cooled the town, they continued dancing out on the rooftop.

"You have really gotten better," she told him.

"I'm fortunate enough to have a partner than I am perfectly attuned with," he told her. He had pulled her in very close. She looked up at him.

There was a long moment while they gazed into each other's eyes.

"If we kiss out here, we will probably have our picture taken by the paparazzi," he told her.

She leaned up into him and whispered, "Tell them I'll take a half dozen copies."

And he bent down to her and softly began to kiss her on her sweet, perfect, rosebud lips.

_Day twenty three down, nineteen more to go_.

**A.N. Had no chance to get back people this time (again) (but still really, really appreciate the reviews) ****Leafena (Happy Birthday), ****Aletta-Feather, Guest, thedoctorsgirl42, The Prince's Phoenix, TeamTHEFT, Samzi, MyraValhallah, Grace5231973, Lyssalia, juju0268, RaFire, Raspberry Not Pink, cheesyteal'c, Just 2 Dream of You, Lattelady, Hermitess, NicoleMuenchSeidel, Rumbelle4ever, (second) Guest. (Also appreciate the new followers – thx.) Several of you have live stories out there, am trying to get your reviews in this weekend – I know how everyone likes to know that someone out there is reading their stuff. **

**Life is still hectic, have now had to add some PT (it's like going to a really, really expensive yoga class) twice a week for three more weeks now, so my next chapter will likely be delayed also (after that I anticipate things beginning to lighten up, unless my blood numbers continue to drop).**

_NEXT: Girl's Night In_


	24. Milah's Story

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 24**

**Milah's Story**

Bae buzzed the apartment at seven a.m. sharp. Gold let him in the building and met him as he came off the elevator. He let Bae into the apartment and Bae looked around appreciatively.

"Nice, dad. Not that big, but plenty of room. What's with the garden?" he nodded at the verdant rooftop plantings.

"It was there when I moved in. The other tenants were. . .are maintaining it."

Bae sat on the footstool part of the Ekornes chair while his father finished getting ready. Little Susie came out to check him out. Bae held out his hand and made soothing noises and the shy, fluffy cat came over to him.

"Well, I'm surprised," Gold confessed. "I've had to bribe the little bitch to get her to let me pet her."

"She's not a dog, dad. Female cats are called queens."

"Well that fits," Gold remarked, as he slipped on his sandals. "OK, I'm ready."

Bae stood, "You know the town better than I do. Where do you suggest?"

"It's in easy walking distance. I suggest the Over Easy Café. They open at eight, so we have plenty of time."

Gold and his son walked down the stairs. Once downstairs, Gold took Bae in to meet Belle. She was in one of her usual outfits, wearing the earrings her had given her. Today she had feathers hanging from her hair.

Belle beamed at the two. "Why hello. You must be Mr. Cassady. Mr. Gold has told me all about you," Belle held out her hands to him. Bae looked at her hard, then at his father.

"You know, don't you? Dad?! I didn't want you telling people!"

"I didn't. She's a smart woman. She saw you with me and your mother and put two and two together." Gold smiled at Belle, and turned back to Bae, "You can trust her."

"You two are going out for breakfast?" Belle asked them.

"Over Easy Café," Gold told her.

"Excellent, have a good time," and she leaned in and kissed Gold directly on the mouth.

Bae raised his eyebrows but also had to smile. _Certainly a beautiful woman. But his dad had always had an eye for beauty, even unconventional, unadulterated beauty, like this pristine flower child. The mystery was what she saw in his dad. Was it his money? That would make the most sense, but his dad knew that he was a target for his money. Wouldn't he be able to get a sense if that was her game? He'd always had a sixth sense about what people really wanted. Ah hell, maybe this was the real thing. Bae was willing to give her the shot, but lord, he didn't want his father hurt again. _

The two men walked down Broadway to the café. Gold opted for the sunburst omelet which came with goat cheese and smoked trout. Bae ordered the breakfast taco. Both men got coffee.

"Not as good as Belle's" his dad told him after taking a drink.

"Dad, she's lovely. But are you. . . are you. . .?"

"What?" Gold asked him.

"Are you sure about her? I mean you've only known her a short while."

Gold nodded with understanding. "I didn't come here looking for a romance. I'll admit when I first met the woman I was thinking she'd be an awesome fuck, but I didn't want, didn't expect anything more than that from her." He took another drink. "But it has become something much, much more. What can I say, she's kind, she's smart, she's strong, everything your mother was not."

Bae listened quietly, "Are you in love with her?"

Gold paused, "I'm getting there. I have times when I cannot imagine her not being in my life, not waking up with her, not being able to look at her over the dinner table."

"Wow, Dad. It does sound serious."

"She's brought up the possibility of children," Gold confessed.

"That is serious," Bae agreed.

"Very much so," Gold took another drink. "Now, you must tell me about your date with the delectable Miss Swan."

Bae let out a sigh. "It was different from the get-go. She didn't respond to my buzz and I had to go back and get Belle to help me get into the building. When I got up to her apartment I knocked and the door swung open. I called for her and she answered from back in the apartment. Now this is where it gets weird. She said she was in a bit of a situation and could I get the towel that was lying out and the keys that were in some little bowl by the door. I had to dig around in the bowl; honest to god, there were some bullets in it. I found the key and I picked up the towel. She then told me to come on further into the apartment and then she asked me to stop as I was about to turn the corner into the kitchen. She asked me to throw the towel at the refrigerator."

Gold kept his face passive. "What?"

"What I came to find out, she had just gotten out of the shower and there had been a visitor and an argument. She wouldn't say with whom, but the lowlife had handcuffed her to the fridge and taken her towel. Poor thing," Bae explained.

"So she was naked?" Gold asked. "Whoa."

"Wow, more like it. I was really trying hard not to look, but the towel didn't cover everything. I couldn't help but see some things and she is pretty impressive."

"So you got her a towel, got her unfastened and then she. . . "

"She got dressed and we went out to Grill 51, one of her favorite places, really informal and then we spent some time together, a really nice time," Bae finished. "Dad, she's amazing. She's smart and kind and strong. Oh my god, I just repeated everything you said Belle was. I'm a little creeped out."

"Why? Because we like the same characteristics in our women?"

"I guess. Now I just went out on the one date with Emma so I'm not talking walking down the aisle just yet," Bae was shaking his head.

Gold nodded. He hesitated. "Uh. . . Bae. . . there is something. . . you may need to know. . . uh. . . Emma. . . uh."

"Gee dad, use your big words," Bae encouraged his father.

Gold smiled and nodded again. "The . . .uh. . . lowlife. . . that handcuffed Emma. . . ."

Bae interrupted, "Oh shit! It was you, wasn't it? She wouldn't tell me who did it, just that she was going to do them great harm and get back at them in a way they couldn't possibly imagine. Damn, damn, damn. Dad? Why?"

Gold winced, "OK, Bae, you know how I like to be on top?"

"I know you started with nothing and made billions of dollars," Bae wasn't sure which direction this was going.

"I mean on top in my _personal_ relationships," Gold tried to explain.

"Well, I know you like to be in charge."

Gold shook his head. "I mean in my _intimate personal_ relationships," he didn't want to say any more.

Bae suddenly absorbed the meaning, "Eeuu, Dad. OK, now I understand. I'll have to sleep with the lights on, but I got it."

"Well, Emma talked with Belle, gave her the handcuffs and some directions and . . . well, let's say I wasn't on top anymore."

"That bad?"

"No, actually . . . oh, you don't want to hear details. But I resent, no, I am angry about Emma's interfering. It was . . . uncalled for. . . not her business."

Bae protested, "Yeah, but now I'm screwed and not in a good way! It's bad enough that she thinks I work for you, but if she thinks I'm your son, she'll likely throw me out on my ear."

"Well, your secret is safe with me."

"For how long, Dad, for how long?"

Gold took his son on the walking tour of Asheville. They walked down Patton Avenue and onto Heywood. Gold pointed out interesting restaurants."

"Is all you've done here is eat?" Bae had to ask him after his father had spent time talking about the cuisine of one restaurant followed by the temptations another restaurant had to offer."

Gold considered, "Pretty much. Done a little sight-seeing with Belle and Emma has taken me to a couple of very interesting stores."

"Sounds like this town has been good for you," Bae observed.

"Not just the town," admitted his father. "The people I've met here. They've become . . . my friends. Now, how would you feel about going to a yoga class?"

00ooooo00ooooo00

Belle was nervous. On one level she knew she didn't have to impress Milah, but on another level she very much wanted to. Milah seemed so sophisticated, so knowledgeable about some things. What would her humble little coven have to offer the woman?

_Why did she have to invite her? What had she been thinking? _

She knew Bobby would not be there to be by her side, to bolster her courage, to give her strength. She would be on her own.

The man was watching her fuss around the apartment. He'd helped with the food, the choice of wine, had ordered additional flowers.

"Belle, why are you trying to impress this woman?" he finally asked her as she shifted some flowers from a table to the countertop. "I can promise you a more mean-spirited, petty, vindictive human being you will not meet."

Belle struggled to put her feelings into words. "I want her to think that. . . I'm worthy of you. That you're not settling for some backwoods hick."

Gold was struggling himself, "Why?! If she adores you, if she hates you, what does it matter to us?"

"I guess, if she doesn't like me, I want her to have to say something like, 'well I hate the little trollop, but I can see why he's shagging her,'" Belle slipped into a passable British accent.

"Interesting," Gold put his hands on her shoulders. "I might be more pleased if I found out she had no idea why I was shagging you. I don't think the woman's capable of seeing what I see in you, all the fine wonderful qualities that I admire. I can promise you, if positions had been reversed, she would have never invited you over for Wednesday Girl's Night In." He couldn't stop himself, pulling her in to kiss her forehead, her nose, her mouth. The kiss intensified. As the kiss unfolded, he backed her up against the countertop and allowed his hands to travel down her back. He could feel her arms going around him.

He broke the kiss off, "Think we have time for a quick one?" he asked. "That'd probably relax you."

Belle pushed him away in feminine irritation. "I don't think so."

"It's worth a shot," he murmured, still trying to nuzzle her.

"Later, later, later, please," she looked up at him with blue eyes pleading.

He looked deep into her eyes and knew if he gave it any effort whatsoever that he could push her into the bedroom, but that was not what she was truly wanting. He relented and released her. "All right, all right, all right. If it helps any, I was about to clear on out. And if it helps any, I think the place looks amazing."

Gold walked out, taking the stairs, and went on out to Jefferson's. He ordered supper and began with a Skull Splitter.

oOOO000OOOo

Milah had been settled in the seat of honor, front and center of the large screen television set. _Thank goodness, she'd left that nasty attorney behind._ The group was rather sedate, nervous with Milah's presence. She didn't seem to notice. She gave commentary as the show went on. She and Killian had been scouting out commitment ceremony venues. There were several nice settings above the French Broad, on the French Broad and on the Swannanoa. Milah had explained that Killian had an affinity for water and had insisted the ceremony be near water; he would have had the ceremony _on_ the water, but Milah had said 'absolutely not.' Milah had also done a high end tour of the sights of Asheville, including Biltmore, the Village, and the funky shops downtown.

Milah spoke up, "This town reminds me of Paris."

"You too?" Belle responded before she gave it thought.

"Very much so, The Left Bank, particularly, with all the students and musicians and artists."

"When were you in Paris?" Belle asked curiously. She knew that Bobby had never been there, although he had been nearly everywhere else.

"I used to go regularly once a year, for Fashion Week, but of course, Bobby was never available or interested in such things."

_Gold found himself meeting up with James and Bae at Jefferson's bar. Jefferson had handed James a beer and some supper. He offered Bae a beer sampler and handed him a menu. _

_Gold asked James, "So this is where you hang on Wednesday nights?" _

"_Absolutely. I do not interfere or make any comments about Mary Margaret's little get-togethers. Singly, any one of those women is scary. As a group, they are a formidable force."_

_Gold nodded agreement. _

_James went on, _"_I understand your ex-wife is putting in an appearance. Awkward."_

"_That's one word for it," Gold agreed and signaled for his second Skull Splitter._

"_How did you two meet?" Jefferson asked as he handed off the rich Scotch ale._

"How did you two meet?" Ruby asked the question that several of the women had been sitting on.

Milah gave them a sad smile. "Oh it was so long ago now. I was sixteen and not from a happy home. I used to hang out at a bar, called The Queen's Castle. And yes, I know I was too young to be hanging out in a bar but I looked older and Mac, the owner and bartender, uh, 'encouraged' me to be there. I would get customers to buy me drinks and he would give me a cut. It was easy money and I got free drinks."

Milah paused and her voice sounded wistful, "I was there with some of my friends one Saturday night. The usual crowd was there. Everybody having a good time. And then two great big guys came in. The place got quiet while these two guys looked around. One of them went back out and then came in, holding the door open for a third man, not a big man, not older, not better dressed, but somehow, more . . . more powerful looking. I can't explain it. I watched the third man. He went over to Mac, who was one of the scariest people I'd ever met and I watched, amazed, as Mac hurried up and offered the guy a drink and then handed over a wad of money."

Milah took a drink. She had everyone's attention. "I heard Mac say, 'It's all there,' and then the other man just smiled, took the money and said, ever so softly, 'I'm sure it is.' Now my friends were all into the two big guys, but I wanted to know the man who took the money. I mean, Mac was bowing and scraping to him. I had never seen Mac do that around anyone. I realized that this man had power, real power."

Milah sighed, "Not that he looked like he was powerful He wasn't dressed fancy or anything. Just jeans, a t-shirt and a black leather jacket. But everyone gave him a wide berth. And Mac had given him money."

"_Milah was picking up pocket change by working a bar, getting guys to buy her drinks. The bartender would water hers down and she would get part of the cut. I had come by the bar on some. . . uh. . . business and couldn't help but notice her. She was the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Young, completely unpolished, just raw beauty." Gold had begun to tell the story. _

"So how'd you hook up?" Ruby asked.

Milah smiled demurely, "I saw him looking at me and I gave a shy smile back. He gestured for Mac and they talked a moment and then Mac glanced down at the bar at me, where I was sitting. The next thing I knew the man gestured for me to come down next to him." Milah fluffed her hair. "I actually debated about it, you know. I mean the man thought he could just crook his finger at me and I'd come running. Well, he was right and I did. And he wanted to know my name, told me his name, and then he wanted to know if I was there by myself. I told him I had come with a couple of my girlfriends and he said that I was by myself and could he buy me a drink. Well, of course he could. He could buy me anything he wanted. A couple of drinks later, I was pretty tipsy. Mac usually watered my drinks way down but I don't think he did that night. Bobby then asked if I wanted to ride with him. He had a couple more stops to make. So I climbed into the back seat of his Firebird Trans Am," Milah shook her head. "The man always had a thing about cars, even then. When we were married he spent most of his money and his time with his cars."

"Yeah, he has a Lamborghini down here right now," shared Emma.

"I'm surprised he took her out of the nest. That Lamborghini is his precious baby. I'd hate to be around if something happened to that car." Milah told them.

"_I made sure she wasn't one of the bartender's whores. He ran another lucrative side business where the girls would go upstairs with the men. He assured me she wasn't. So I bought her a couple of drinks and asked her to ride with me while I completed my business. And she jumped at it. At that time I had the sweetest red Firebird Trans Am. Loved that car. Took her around for the rest of the evening."_

Ruby brought the conversation back to The Meeting, "Yeah, yeah, so what happened there in the backseat."

"Not what you'd think. He was the perfect gentleman. I was so drunk if he'd tried something I wouldn't have been able to stop him. He had his heavies drive him around to a couple more bars. Bought me some food, but no more drinks. Got my phone number and took me home."

Milah sighed again. "I tell you I felt that I was in love with him at that point. I had never been out with anyone who treated me like a lady, who wasn't pawing me or lifting my skirt or sticking his tongue down my throat."

"Got that right," said Ruby.

"You know girl," Milah agreed. "He called me the next week and after that we started dating pretty regularly. He courted me, bought me flowers and jewelry and clothes, treated me nicer than anyone ever had. We'd known each other maybe three months and he proposed."

"And you said yes?" Mary Margaret asked.

"_Took her on a couple more dates, began buying her little presents. Had a good time with her. Hell, I had a great time with her. She had more style than any girl I had ever met, for all that she was young. And was more beautiful than any girl I had ever met. After three months, I proposed." He began his third beer' Jefferson was now handing him Yuenglings._

"Oh yes, I said yes, yes, yes. I had never known anyone like him. And at first we were very, very happy together."

"So what happened?" Belle couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Oh Belle there were so many things. I knew he was a gang member and high up in the rankings. There was a fair amount of money in those days and I never asked where it came from." Milah sat quietly for a moment. "I think things began to unravel when he decided to quit the gang. One of his very close friends had been killed. His friend had gone on a pickup that Bobby was supposed to go on. It could have been Bobby."

Milah took another drink. "It was very difficult after he quit. There was very little money and he put everything we had into college tuition. He'd gotten this hair-brained idea to get a degree in business. He also began to start some dealings and eventually he was able to get enough leverage and buy the building we were in. I thought that maybe things were turning around when the old gang came after him. There were four of them who jumped him. He took out one but then two of them were able to hold him while the fourth one began to beat him up, well and truly."

"My god," said Mary Margaret. "What happened?"

"_Things began to unravel when I decided to make a . . . career change. I went back to school. Money got tight. We were hanging on when some of my former business associates decided to have a . . . conference with me. It resulted in me being hospitalized."_

"They were all arrested and sent to jail. Bobby still managed to keep going to school even racked up with a cast and crutches and so he was able to graduate on time."

"What happened to the perps?" Emma asked this.

"Strangest thing. They all got convictions. But then Bobby began to send their families money and set up trust funds for their kids to go to college. I thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard."

'What happened?" Belle wanted to know.

"By the time they got out, they were his biggest supporters and they all work for him now. Not beating people up, mind you. Managing some of his buildings most of them. He also has them working security for him from time to time."

"So what happened to the marriage?" Ruby asked.

"_I don't know if the problem was that we had never had real love between us or if we were too young or if I was just a son of a bitch, but things became more and more difficult between us. We fought and, I mean fought, all the time. But the money had started to come in so Milah hung on with me. Things really fell apart when I moved the family to the States to work on my law degree. I think that's when Milah's infidelities started."_

"I don't know. I guess we weren't really in love with each other. Things became increasingly tense and . . . violent between us. He was gone all the time and when he was around, we argued and fought. But the money kept getting better and better, so I hung on. I think the marriage completely fell apart when he uprooted us to move to Cambridge while he worked on his law degree. I began to look for other. . . amusements. I was tired and neglected. Even when he was around, he wasn't around. His head was in his school work or in his businesses. When the big money started, he was gone, traveling a lot. It was almost a relief when he came home unexpectedly and caught me with Killian."

"And is Killian your soul mate?" Belle had to ask.

"I think so. We are so compatible, so in sync." Milah shrugged and sat up. "Oh, I feel like I'm bringing everyone down talking about my failed marriage. Belle, you must tell me how you met Bobby."

All eyes turned to Belle. "I saw him looking forlorn, lonely and lost-looking very early one morning and offered him a cup of coffee. He accepted it and things just happened from there. . ." Belle explained simply.

"Things heated up pretty quickly, huh?" Milah asked her.

Belle blushed, remembering their false starts and delays and she knew Milah's sharp eyes had caught it. "Pretty quickly," she confessed.

Milah's looked concerned and said in a hushed voice, "Watch yourself Belle, the man's very exciting in the short run, but there is a very real, very dangerous side to him. I know I sound like the vindictive ex-wife, but sometimes there is a darkness that takes root in him. I don't want to undermine your relationship but please, please realize he can be very seductive and then, in a heartbeat, he can turn on you, or worse, turn on himself."

Belle took in Milah's comment and responded, "I just try to take things day by day."

"_I got tired of her manipulations, her schemings, her attempts to manage __and undermine others, especially me. It. . . it wore on me. I was so relieved when I finally caught her with her latest paramour and was able to move to a divorce. It was worth every penny in cost me. I just hope she doesn't say or do anything to upset Belle." He was now on his fourth beer._

"I'm sure you do, dear." There was just a touch of condescension.

"You must tell us how the makeup business is going," Ruby said, breaking some of the growing tension.

Mercurical Milah was back in her element. "I'm so glad you asked. It's wonderful! Are you wearing my _Trashy Red _lipstick?"

"I certainly am."

Milah reached into her large purse and pulled out some eye shadows and some brushes. "Oh please, let me see how you like these." She got up and went over to Ruby. "I can tell you are a girl who likes makeup, who likes to experiment, who likes to be daring." She began to apply a dark navy to Ruby's eyes. She showed Ruby her new look in a pocket mirror.

"Oh my god! This is hot looking!" said Ruby.

Wendy was watching. "It looks great. Can I have some?"

Milah looked at the sixteen year old with an experienced eye. "My dear, you need something more natural I think. Here," and she began to apply a neutral tan with a little sparkle to Wendy's eyelids. She added some brown liner and a little mascara. "Here's a little gloss with a touch of coral in it."

Milah went through the women giving them quick makeovers and gifting them with makeup samples. She went through Ashley, Mary Margaret, even Emma who initially resisted but then reluctantly accepted mascara, gloss and a bronzer. When she got to Belle, Milah hesitated.

Belle shrugged. "I'm not one for a lot of makeup."

Milah looked her right in the eye. "Would you like to try something different from your usual? How about I give you an upscale glamorous look?" She waited.

Belle's friends all encouraged her. "It's just makeup. It'll wash off," Mary Margaret told her.

"It might shake Gold up to see you all gussied up," Emma told her. "Come one girl, I did it. You should go for it."

Belle took a deep breath, "Oh go ahead. I have nothing to lose."

The women gathered around as Milah began on Belle, starting with a light foundation, a cheek color and then eye makeup, three different shades, a liner and mascara followed by a lipliner and lipstick.

"Wow," Ruby said. "You look fantastic."

"It's different, but you do look great. Like a runway model or somebody on the red carpet," Mary Margaret said.

"You look beautiful," Wendy told her awed.

Belle finally looked at herself. She didn't look like herself. She was elegant, sophisticated, stylish. She was very polished looking, like a socialite or debutante.

Milah seemed unsure of herself, "Do you want the makeup? I don't want to do anything that might get Bobby upset with you. I mean, he's always upset with me, but I'm not here to screw up your relationship."

"Oh," Belle laughed. "I believe the man can handle a little makeup."

"Well, you can never tell what will trigger him." Milah gave her a shy smile and handed her the makeup samples. Milah sighed and stretched. "Belle, this has been so much fun. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate the invitation. I don't have many girlfriends, or really any for that matter, except for Regina and I think she probably had my ex-husband while we were going through the divorce, so I'm not sure she really counts as a friend." Milah sounded sad and genuinely grateful.

Belle showed Milah out and Wendy, Ruby and Ashley rode with her on the elevator.

Emma considered a moment, "A darkness that takes root in him?" Emma shrugged, "Sounds like a little depression. Could have been self-medicating or over-medicating or not medicating. Where is he now? Downstairs, getting drunk? Probably shouldn't be having alcohol."

"I've seen him have a beer, but I've never seen him get drunk, but I do think he planned on it tonight." Belle pulled out her cell phone and gave him a call. When he answered, she said shortly, "She gone."

"Thank you," was all the response she got.

Mary Margaret had given James a similar call and let Belle know the two men were going to ride up together in the elevator. She and Emma excused themselves.

00000o00000o00000

"And how was it?" he asked, slightly slurring his speech and just barely managing to stand under his own power.

"Everything you had warned me about. She was quite friendly and kinda fun, but then she had to drop a couple of warnings about you and your 'dark side'."

"Uumm," Gold nodded. "She's right you know. I have that and can be pretty difficult to be around. Right now, however I'm just drunk."

"I thought as much," Belle held out her arm and guided him to the bedroom. He leaned heavily on her.

"You look different," he observed her closely, looking at her face. "She did this, right?"

"She did. It's just makeup and will wash right off."

"I like you with or without makeup. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. There is only one thing about you I would change." He'd made it into the bedroom and fell face first onto the bed. Belle lifted a leg to remove one of his sandals.

"Oh, and what is that?" she asked.

He spoke into the mattress. "Your underwear. You should be wearing lacey knickers with little scraps of silk that hold up your tits just right." Gold had managed to roll himself to his back and was now lying across the bed. Belle was after the second sandal. "You know you have the most beautiful tits I've ever seen. Perfect sized." He looked up at her. "May I see them now, please?" asking like a well-behaved school boy who was hoping for a treat.

"In a bit. So you don't like my underwear?" She was trying to unfasten his belt to pull off his jeans but he kept squirming and shifting.

"No. You wear ugly underwear and you should wear beautiful underwear because you are beautiful and you deserve it." He was still on his back and still with his feet hanging over the bed.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because I wasn't drunk then. I was afraid if I told you, you might get mad or pout or throw me out. I would like to buy you some really nice stuff, some panties and some bras and some of those corsety things that you can put with garters and stockings. That would be really hot. I might like to fuck you while you were wearing one of those thingies." His voice trailed off and Belle could barely hear him, "Of course I'd like to fuck you when you are not wearing one of those thingies."

"Really?" she had managed to pull off his pants. He was left in his boxers and his t-shirt. That should suffice for the night. She began to tug and push him so that instead of lying across the bed, he was lying up and down but he began to try to feel her up. For all that he was thoroughly inebriated he still maintained enough control to outmaneuver her and soon enough he had pulled her down and rolled over on top of her.

He looked down at her "You know, Belle, I'm in love with you," he told her. "I should have said it before but I'm too much of a tight-assed coward to be the first to say it."

Belle smiled up at him. "Tell me that again when you are sober."

He rolled off of her and began to feel for his pants. "I can't find my pocket. I have my cigarettes there and I'm supposed to count how many I have left."

"I'll do that, dear," and she sat up. The pants were on the floor. She was able to reach them and pulling them onto the bed, she found the pack and counted. "Five left, honey."

_Twenty four days down and eighteen to go. _

"And how did it go?"

"Pretty well, I think. They now all believe that I wasn't much more than an impressionable child when I married Bobby."

"Think we'll be able to get Belle to help us out?"

"Absolutely darling, absolutely."

**Thanks to all my reviewers (and new readers): Stargate533, Rumbelle4ever, cheesyteal'c, , ****WastefulWaif****, ****thedoctorsgirl42, The Auburn Girl, Hermitess, Samzi, NicoleMuenchSeidel, DruidKitty, Just 2 Dream of You, Lattelady, Grace5231973, talkstoangels77, The Auburn Girl, YukaTheDemon1, TeamTHEFT, juju0268, MyraValhallah, Aletta-Feather, CrossBreed777, RaFire, and Leafena. I was only able to manage to get back with a personal thank you to a handful of you before the work schedule and random after-work appointments cramped my style.**

**I also appreciate the kind comments related to my health (which I'm afraid will always be dicey). I'm still hoping within a couple of weeks that I'll go on a part-time schedule and can get back to the Thursday morning posting schedule.**

_Next: The Southern Highlands Guild Semi-annual Craft Fair_

_Belle asks about The Darkness_


	25. Confessions

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 25**

**Confessions**

Gold felt that someone had taken an axe and cleaved directly into his head.

His head was splitting. He was sure if he moved part of his skull would just fall off, it would just fall off exposing brains and bones and sinuses and all the inner workings of his head.

Oh yeah, Skull Splitter. That was what he had been drinking last night. A couple of those. Then there had been some Yuenglings. He'd lost count of those.

He hadn't gotten this drunk since he had tried to. . . well, it had been awhile. Somewhere down deep inside he knew what he needed to do. He needed to rehydrate. He needed to take something for the pain. He needed to get quick contracts out on the little man who was operating the jackhammer and the one that was conducting The Off-Key Out-of-Step Bell Choir.

And blessed, blessed, blessed be, his Belle was there with a something soothing and hydrating and just the right balance of sweetness and tartness so that he would be able to keep it down.

"How ya doin'?" she asked him softly.

"I'd have to rally to die," he managed to gasp out.

"Well, this should make you feel a lot better in no time. But you've got to keep drinking it." Belle handed him a second glass of magical elixir and a couple of naproxen.

It was more than thirty minutes later and three total glasses of the restorative that Belle had graciously and non-judgmentally prepared for him before he was able to sit up. Belle had gotten up, fed the cat, watered the plants and taken care of a number of little household chores, coming in to check on him, but not badgering him _which he so very much appreciated. _

"How ya doin' now?" she asked again.

"I think I'm going to live, but I'm not going to like it," he told her.

She sat down across from him. "You were pretty drunk when you came in last night. All of that from beer?"

"Jefferson had an evil brew called Skull Splitter. It was really delicious and I had two and god knows how much of what else. My hair hurts."

"Oh poor baby," Belle said kindly.

Gold tried to swallow, but he felt like his mouth was filled with cotton. He was sipping the fourth glass of Belle's magic potion. His vision had come back. The man with the hammer had quit chipping away on the inside of his skull. The man ringing the bells had let up on the campanology and now there was just one large single bell that was still left ringing.

"Was I too objectionable last night? I seem to remember asking you to take your top off." _Oh lord, had he been a creep?_

"You did," Belle confirmed. She sat quietly.

Gold had another memory come through. "I told you I loved you, didn't I?"

Quietly Belle answered him, "You did."

"Belle, I. . . understand. . . oh please understand," the man looked like he was in pain. "I once thought I was in love and after three months I proposed marriage. With the exception of giving me Bae, it was the single worst decision of my life. And now I am feeling what I think is love. . . for you. It is different from what I felt with Milah, but I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. What if this isn't what I think it is? What if this is another horrible mistake." _Could she? Would she understand?_

Belle put her finger up to his mouth, gently shushing him. "Listen to me, Mr. Bobby Spinner. If what we have is love, we'll know. We're not in any hurry here. We'll take this one day at a time. We will enjoy what we have right now and if there's nothing more, we'll still be able to look back on this time as a wonderful memory. If there is more, we'll welcome it. . .together."

Gold nodded. "You are too good for me," he told her.

"I am, but what am I to do? I think I'm in love with you too."

"Even though I'm a coward and a monster and a cripple and . . ."

Belle tilted her head and smiled at him, stopping his litany.

He dropped his head, guiltily. "I remember that I complained about your undergarments didn't I?"

"You did, said they were ugly," Belle looked like she was smothering a giggle.

"Please, let me spend some money on you, please. I think you're so glorious that I want the packaging to match. Silk and lace and some of that really sheer stuff, maybe with little ruffles and bows."

"You mentioned wanting me in a corset . . . with stockings."

Gold groaned. "Yeah, and I think I said what I wanted to do with you while you were wearing those. Probably shouldn't have shared that. You realize that was the alcohol talking."

"Uh hum," Belle was still humoring him.

The man hesitated, "If. . .if I bought you some nicer. . . uh. . .lacey. . . things. . . would you wear them. . .for me?" he finally asked. _What a wuss he was being. He had bartered million dollar deals and hadn't worried about offending anybody's sensibilities. What was it about this hundred pound female that made him tread so lightly? Oh yeah, he was falling in love with her. And she with him. And he cared about her and what she thought about him._

"I think I could do that. Maybe we can go out later to a Victoria's Secret or a Soma and see what we can find."

"Today?" She'd just offered him a powerful incentive for quick recovery.

She nodded, "Today."

"I should be good to go shortly," he promised her.

"I think you've forgotten something."

_Oh lord what else had he said . . . or done. . . while drunk? Did he owe her an apology? Had he proposed? Had he been crude and vulgar? Had he thrown up? What? What? _

Seeing his panicked look, Belle relented. "The big craft fair begins today. I always go to see what crafts are being featured so I can do book displays for the fallout from the fair. People will see things they want to do and they come to my store to buy a book on it."

_Craft fair. Oh shit, yeah, the craft fair. _

"Sure, we can go to the craft fair."

Belle stood a moment quietly. "Now if you don't feel up to coming with me, there's no problem. It will only take the morning."

He considered. He always looked forward to Thursdays and spending time with Belle. Alone. He had had _fun._ He got kisses and sometimes sex and always fun. "I'm in." He pulled himself up, teetered and sat back down. "I may need help dressing."

Belle handed him some fresh underwear, clean jeans and a clean t-shirt. He looked around and located his sandals.

"Breakfast?" he asked her.

"You feel like eating?" she asked him, surprised.

"No, but I'll feel better if I do eat," he told her honestly.

"The Green Sage is close in and I don't think you've eaten there before," she told him and waited patiently for him to pull himself together. They walked down Broadway to the small restaurant. Gold got the Alaska Omelet with wild salmon with coffee to drink. Belle got their apple, sunflower oatmeal along with an egg biscuit and carrot-ginger juice to drink.

Gold was beginning to feel like a regular person again.

"How did it go with Milah?" he was finally able to ask.

"She shared how you two met."

"What version did she give you?"

"That she was under-aged, working in a bar and you came by to. . . well it sounded like you were collecting protection money and you picked her up. She said you two got married within three months and then when you had a friend killed, you decided to quit the gang and things began to fall apart, even after money started coming in," Belle summarized the story.

"Pretty accurate."

"It was interesting. She went to some lengths not to blame you but I still came away with the sense that you were this older, rich, experienced man who had callously picked up, seduced and taken advantage of an inexperienced, young girl."

"Kinda like our relationship?" he asked with just a touch of bitterness.

"I was hardly inexperienced," she protested.

He looked at her directly in the eyes and whispered, so that only she could hear, "Actually you were." Belle blushed and dropped her eyes. He continued, "But Milah, now, she was hardly inexperienced," he muttered. "But she was always good at making others think she was vulnerable and innocent. Anything else happen?"

"Well, then she gave us all make-overs and dropped a couple of hundred dollars worth of makeup samples that she just happened to be carrying with her," Belle continued.

"So what did you think of her?" Gold braced himself.

"I think she is a very clever woman. She was working very hard to be pleasant and nice. And I think she wants something." Gold glanced up at her, his eyes meeting hers. "Just because I'm nice, doesn't mean I'm stupid. People make that mistake sometimes."

"Including me," he confessed. "I guess I should have realized that you wouldn't be taken in so easily."

"Maybe, you should have," Belle agreed with him.

"Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you something at the craft fair."

Belle took a sharp intake of air. "Oh, I don't know."

"Why don't we make a deal?" his eyes glinted. "I won't spend more than five hundred dollars and I promise to never get that drunk again."

"How about no more than fifty dollars and you quit feeding Susie an extra breakfast," Belle shot back.

"Ouch." _So she knew about his efforts to get the white cat on his good side._ "How about four hundred and I agree to not getting that drunk and I'll quit feeding Susie the extra breakfast?"

"One hundred and you won't take vengeance on Emma about the. . . you know."

He grimaced, "Too late. How about three hundred and I won't get that drunk, I'll quit the extra food and I'll take whatever Emma dishes out in retribution?"

"How about all that . . . and. . . you agree to me inviting Milah and her entourage over for Sunday breakfast?"

Gold sat back. "Can I invite Bae too?"

"He's in," Belle quickly agreed.

"First tell me why, why would you want Milah to come to breakfast?"

"Keep your friends close. . . " Belle began.

Gold smiled at her, "And your enemies closer." He sat back. "Three hundred fifty and you have a deal."

Belle thought a moment and held out her hand. They shook on it.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Gold had never been to a craft fair quite like the Southern Highland Guild's. For one thing the entries were juried, a term he learned meant they had been judged by their peers as worthy of representing the craft. These were works by true artists, not casual craftspeople. Mary Margaret was there with handspun yarn and a variety of knitted and crocheted hats. There were other textiles, also pottery, jewelry, artwork, woodcrafts, metal crafts, and, something new for him, broom makers. Belle chatted with the textile artists, apparently knowing many of them. She lingered over some of the artwork, being drawn to watercolors and random drawings of cats. She hesitated when she got to some of the woodcrafters, especially one that did intricately carved boxes. Belle dallied at the one of the broom makers booths. _He wondered if she was looking for one that she could bewitch and have it carry Milah away. _

What stopped her in her tracks though was a silversmith. One of the necklaces was similar to one she had, but much more ornate. She returned twice to the booth to look at the necklace. Longer than hers, with more chains and more charms. It was a beautiful piece. It was three hundred and forty dollars. She turned away for the third time.

He pulled her aside. "We had a deal."

She couldn't look at him. "I know but it's hard for me to have you spend that kind of money on me."

"I can well afford it. You know that Belle. And remember what I'm willing to agree to. I won't be getting shit-faced the next time you invite somebody totally objectionable to Girls' Night In. I will quit using food to buy the favors of that evil cat and have to risk her chewing my face off while I sleep. I will allow Emma to kick the crap out of me when she comes for me, and I'm pretty sure that she will. And this is the big one, I will spend Sunday morning with my devious, deceitful ex-wife and her low-life, unfit-for-human-company cohorts."

Belle nodded,"You know that's a lot of whining."

Gold kissed her forehead, turned back to the booth, and as was his common practice, he paid cash for the necklace which he promptly put around her neck.

"I've admired this necklace for more than three years, ever since this silversmith started coming to this fair." She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "Thank you."

He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Do I get special boyfriend sex for this?" he asked.

"That wasn't part of our bargain. But yeah, of course you do," she told him. "But right now, let's get some streusel from Helmut's. I always get a box with half-apple and half-cherry."

He paid for the streusel and they left together, heading back to the shop.

"I'm going to want to put together a display for hand-dying and one for making your own jewelry. I'll pull the pottery books up also and it probably wouldn't hurt to have the yarn crafts pulled out too." She chatted away, unconsciously resting one hand in his and the other holding onto her necklace.

Once back to the shop she, Ruby and Ashley worked quickly to put together the displays. Gold watched them, impressed.

"Think you can handle it?" Belle asked the other two.

"Yeah, the first day is always slow. It's not until Saturday that things get really busy," Ruby told her. "You know that. Now go ahead. Take the rest of your day and have a good time." Ruby glanced over at Gold and gave him a subtle wink.

Belle ran her hands down her neck, "All right. You know to call me if things get too busy."

"Of course, but we'll be fine," Ruby promised.

0000000000o0000000000

Belle took Gold out to the Asheville Mall on South Tunnel Road. She had them stop at the food court for some falafel from Baba Ghannouj and then on into the bowels of the Mall to Victoria's Secret.

She stopped before they got to the store. "Now we didn't talk about this, but you've already spent more than three hundred on me today. . . "

"And traded off quite a bit of my dignity for the privilege," he reminded her.

She glared at him and continued. "We need to have some parameters for this store. Some guidelines. Some limits."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling at her. He leaned into her, pulling her against him and whispering into her ear. "How about you give me free rein? I spend as much as I want and I promise to make sweet love to you for each and every garment I buy for you and you will graciously accept the proof and truth of my devotion and affection by saying yes. . . yes. . . yes."

Belle shivered, the sensual promise blatant in his comments. _Yes. _She had not thought this was going to be difficult, _yes,_ but the man seemed to be _yes_ enjoying himself too much.

Gold pushed his advantage, "Please let me do this for you. I want to do this for you."

"You're making it sound _yes_ like I'm doing you a favor."

He chuckled and she could feel his warm breathe against her neck. "You are. Please, do this for me?"

_Milah had been right. The man was 'very seductive' and 'exciting.' She had gotten that sooo right. Right now, at this moment, he was pushing her with every bit of charm, every bit of warm, comforting, masculine allure he could muster. _She tried to clear her head but had no success. "Yes, all right," she yielded.

Once in the store, Belle watched in amazement. She'd had always gotten good service in the place, but the saleswomen seemed to be falling over themselves with Gold, even though he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, without the visible trappings of Big Money. It was as if they could smell his money.

_How did they know? Not like he'd flashed the Black Card or anything. Of course, he was ordering people around like he expected to be catered to. _He'd requested a place to sit and they found a place for him to sit. He'd asked if they could get him some bottled water and they offered him refreshment. The manager began to chat with him about his preferences.

Belle found herself bundled off into a backroom and then and there she was thoroughly taped and measured. They brought her white things and red things and black things and the occasional pink things. They found some blue things that matched her eyes. There were bras, panties, corsets, bustiers, camisoles, slips, garter belts, teddies and stockings. She knew there were at least three saleswomen working between her and Gold. She knew they were bringing her things to try on. She suspected they were bringing selections to him first for his approval and then carrying the ones that fit back out to him. She didn't see him again for more than an hour. She had never dressed and undressed so completely and so often in such a short span of time.

One of the saleswomen finally came back into to see her and the woman was smiling. "Don't tell me, I've tried on everything in the store?" Belle asked her.

The woman gave her a gracious laugh. "Just about, Miss French. Mr. Spinner has made some purchases and has set you up with an account."

"Oh really?" _And exactly what did that mean?_

As if she had heard Belle's thought, the woman explained, "We have your sizes and as things that meet your preferences come in, we shall send you the items on trial."

"My preferences?" Belle couldn't help but ask. _More like Mr. Spinner's preferences._

She was half expecting Gold to be surrounded with pink striped bags and boxes but he had only a single bag in hand.

As they left the store, Belle had to ask, "Is that all you bought?" _Not that she was comfortable with him spending the money on her, but that had been a long, hard afternoon for just one little bag._

"The rest will be delivered. These were just my favorites," he gave her a smirk.

"Oh." She found herself blushing again. She tried another tack. "You don't mind carrying a bag of women's underwear?"

He shook his head, smiling. "What, I'm out with a beautiful woman and I am carrying some delicate, lacy undergarments that she has promised me that she will wear. . . for me. I have no problems with other people seeing me. Now, my dear, anywhere else you want to go while we're here?"

Belle considered. It might be fun to drag him all over the mall to one store after another just to see how long he would last. She considered. _No, she couldn't do that to the man. He was just wanting to do something for her. _

"No, I'm finished. There's nowhere else here I want to go."

O0oO0oO0oo0Oo0Oo0O

He took her back to the apartment and handed her the bag.

"Put on the white items," he directed her. "Then put what you have on over it and come out. I have reservations at Curate." Gold named the elite tapas and wine bar at the other end of their block.

"Curate?" Belle was impressed. This was one of the most extraordinary restaurants in Asheville. Anthony Bourdain had eaten there when his television show came through Asheville. Belle dutifully went into the bedroom. There were some gold items, some blue items and the white items. These white items consisted of a white satin bustier with matching thong. She struggled just a bit to get herself into the bustier. It barely covered her breasts, lifting them together and pushing them up high. When she pulled her little tank top on, she turned to look at herself and, darn it, found herself blushing again. She had cleavage. . . ample cleavage. She hurriedly dug in the chest of drawers for one of her shawls. She wasn't sure she could go out like this. She felt. . . on display.

When she came out, she was keeping her head down. Gold couldn't help but notice the shawl. He stopped her and gently pulled the shawl away.

He stood a moment in worshipful silence before whispering, "Perfect. You are perfect."

"I'm about to fall out," she protested.

"I don't think so. Bend over," he ordered. "Now raise your arms." She complied. "Move back and forth." She again complied. "Now stand up." She did. "Nope, you're still trussed up right as rain. He handed her back the shawl. "Now if you prefer to keep the shawl on, I have no problem with that. Just take it off for me, once we have sat down in the restaurant."

She nodded.

But she was nervous. Very nervous. Fortunately the restaurant was dark and when she obligingly removed the shawl she felt that there were few enough that could actually see her. And she was quite relieved when, in a bit, she had looked at Gold and she found that he was looking into her eyes.

They ordered a several plates of tapas and, after talking with the sommelier, Gold ordered a bottle of wine. Belle began drinking her first glass and nibbling.

"I wanted to ask you something," she started uncertainly.

"Please, anything," he answered.

Belle finished her first glass. "Milah said something," she was cautious, unsure of how to begin.

"I'm sure she did," Gold poured her a second glass of wine and began with their cheese plate.

"She said that sometimes it was like there was a darkness that would take root in you. What did she mean by that?"

Gold sampled the fried eggplant and sipped his wine.

"She must have been talking with her therapist. She was never so eloquent with a phrase," he replied to Belle.

Belle waited.

"I have a problem," he confessed. "I used to be angry, combative, sometimes withdrawn and often bitter and resentful."

"But you aren't like that now. What was wrong?"

Gold swallowed. "When I was younger, they thought it was bi-polar. I was given some medicine that made me feel badly and I quit taking it. Instead, I parlayed the anger and explosiveness, the unpredictability, into a career. Those characteristics served me well when I was running protection rackets, when I was dealing drugs. I got the reputation of being someone you wouldn't want to cross because I _was _someone you wouldn't want to cross."

"So what happened?" Belle asked while Gold refilled her glass.

"Well interestingly enough, even when I wasn't involved in shady dealings, when I was doing, you know, legal business, those same characteristics helped me get ahead. I was willing to take risks. I could intimidate people. I could push people around. Once I got the Harvard law degree, it became even easier for me to pressure people and get what I wanted. It still paid off." He took a sip of his wine and refilled Belle's glass.

"So?" Belle was listening closely, nibbling and drinking.

"At one point, I was doing very well. I was worth a couple of million, about fifteen, twenty years ago. There was some deal I had wanted to make but it didn't come through the way I wanted it to. It was like I was possessed. I had an explosive temper outburst. I trashed my office, breaking glass and furniture with my cane. Building security was called. They called the police. Because I was rich, I didn't end up in jail; I ended up in the hospital."

"Oh my god!"

"One of the best things that ever happened to me. Young Dr. Hopper came in. Told me that I was acting like a three year old and he didn't think I was bi-polar. I got a new diagnosis then. Major depressive disorder."

"Wow, not Dr. Hopper of the Hopper Institute?" Belle had seen the quiet spoken, but firm psychiatrist on a variety of talk shows. He was calm, clear and displayed incisive insights into people and situations. She nibbled and drank some more.

"One and the same, but there was no Institute then. I argued with him, of course. Depressed people sat around and cried a lot. I was offended he would think I was depressed. Bipolar somehow seemed more manly. Besides, I told him, I was rich. I had nothing to be depressed about."

"What did he say to that?" Belle was now on her fourth glass of fine red wine.

"He challenged me. Told me my marriage was disintegrating, I had a piss-poor relationship with my son, I had no outside interests, my health was slipping because there was no exercise and my diet was atrocious, I had no friends and my employees were terrified that I might change one of them into a snail and step on them."

"And you said?"

"What could I say? The man was right." Gold nibbled on another one of the tapas.

"So then what?"

"He said I needed to make up my mind if I wanted to get treatment. I asked him what options were available."

"And he said?"

"I could try medication, therapy or lifestyle changes or some combination."

Belle nodded. "And you chose?"

"When I calmed down I went for all three. That's when I began to work, really work on my relationship with Milah and what I was doing to her," Gold added, softly, "the abuse stuff. I also began to schedule some time with Bae and began to take him on some of my business trips. I tried to take Milah, but she didn't want to go. I think, even then, she was stepping out on me. I began to try to get in some exercise and hired a personal chef. I went on a series of antidepressants and reuptake inhibitors."

"How'd it go?"

"Well enough that after two years, I endowed Hopper with enough money to start his own clinic. I've been one of his supporters ever since."

"And then you had a little setback?"

"A long time later. A little setback. I found my wife _in flagrante delicto_ with another man and I filed for a divorce, a divorce that took nearly two years to get through with all the antics and courtroom shows. After that I kinda had a mini-breakdown and rather than go into the hospital again, I came here."

"But you aren't having those problems now, are you?" Belle had finished her wine and he poured her a fifth glass.

"This, what you see here and now, represents a very recent change. I think I may have finally found the right lifestyle changes. On my own, I'm really exercising, I'm eating right, hell, I'm doing yoga. I may be taking up spinning with Mary Margaret. I seem to have friends. I'm in a relaxed relationship with a woman who accepts me and nurtures me and is wonderful for me."

Belle's eyes widened and she took a big drink from her glass, "Me?"

"Of course, you, you precious thing you. Do you think I have the strength to be keeping another female satisfied?" He looked at her. "You are satisfied, aren't you?"

She smiled, "Yes, I am." She shook her head. "I'm also a little tipsy. How much wine did I drink?" Belle realized she had been eating steadily and drinking steadily.

"No idea. Feeling dizzy?"

"Oh my yes. I don't do this type of thing often," Belle seemed concerned. "I must have drunk more than I realized. It was really good."

"Well let me know now if you want me to take advantage of you or not. I can play the gentleman or the scoundrel."

"Scoundrel, take advantage please," she gave him a little grin.

He paid their bill and helped her up, guiding her back up to their apartment building. He opted to take her up the elevator and she fell into him.

"You know," she began, running her hands up and down his body as they rode together up to the apartment. "I used to think that I would never meet a nice guy. That I wasn't worthy of having a nice guy in my life. Milah said that when she first saw you, she knew you had power and she decided that was what she wanted. I guess she and I have something in common. When I first met you, I thought you looked lost. I thought you had gorgeous brown eyes and wonderful hands and were really attractive. But I also knew you had power. And I'm pretty sure that attracted me."

"You thought I was an eight." He guided her back into the apartment.

She giggled. "I _said_ you were an eight. I _thought_ you were a fourteen."

He had to smile at that, "I thought the same thing about you," he told her, leading her back to the bedroom.

"So we were instantly attracted to each other, huh?" She was wrapping herself around him, kissing his neck, licking his neck. "You smell good, you taste good," she told him.

"Let me help you out here," he told her, gently removing her tank top and pulling down her skirt. He had wanted to see the little bustier on her. _Damn. If she had been wearing something like this when they had first met, he wouldn't have been able to restrain himself. _He started to kiss her when he felt her pushing him down onto the bed so he lay back with his feet still on the floor. She was busy unfastening his pants and he could feel her little hands reaching inside and latching onto him. She slipped off the bed and was kneeling on the floor between his legs. He knew what she was about to do and debated briefly if he would accept her attentions in this manner. _Hell yeah. _She seemed pretty intent and pretty eager. He lay back on the bed, enjoying the sensation of her fingers and her mouth and her tongue on himself. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the image of her in the lovely, lacey underwear he had just seen her in and put his hands down to twist his fingers in her hair, gently guiding her movements. It didn't take him long before he felt the pressure build and his _release_ was upon him.

Belle climbed back up onto the bed to lie beside him, hugging him and murmuring. "That was nice. I didn't even have to tie you up."

He hugged her back, _the little witch, _then finished pulling off his pants and his t-shirt. He then shifted their weight so that they were lying properly on the bed. Belle ran her hands along her bustier. "Do you want me to take this off?"

"No dear, I want to do you when you are still wearing it. It will take me a little while, but as soon as I can, I will."

00000ooooo00000

He had pulled his jeans back on and was sitting outside on the rooftop with the black cat as company. _So Belle became amorous under the effects of alcohol. Good to know. _He had counted his half pack of cigarette. He'd started the day with ten. He had six left.

_Twenty five days down, seventeen days to go. _

_He realized he wanted more than seventeen days. _

_He wondered if Belle did too._

**Thx to you ever helpful reviewers: ****Leafena, Anonymous Nerd Girl, Just 2 Dream of You, Lattelady, RaFire, xanimejunkie, Stargate533, Rumbelle4ever, Ying-Fa-dono, Raspberry Not Pink, thedoctorsgirl42, Grace5231973, Girlyemma96 (who has apparently been out of town getting respite care or managing life or school or something and reviewed 4 chapters! Gee thx), Pommyth, DruidKitty, Samzi, MyraValhallah, smorgan1 (for two reviews of earlier chapters), Hermitess, Aletta-Feather,** **and RoxyMoron.**

_NEXT: Emma starts something but she can't finish it_

_because there's a small problem _

_with turkeys_


	26. The Saluda Grade

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 26**

**The Saluda Grade**

Belle woke up with a headache. Gold was there for her with his own version of a hangover remedy this morning.

"Drink up, princess. You dehydrated a bit last night."

She managed to sit up and sipped the drink. "This is good."

"Not the magical stuff you gave me, but I hope something that works just as well."

She blinked and ran her fingers through her hair. "I have to get into work. I've never gotten drunk off wine." She looked down and saw she was still wearing the white bustier. "I guess I was kinda slutty last night," she couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm not complaining," he managed to say without leering.

"But you were telling me all this serious, important, private stuff about yourself and I was drinking myself into a state. I'm not a very good girl friend."

"I'm not sure who you ran that idea by, but they're full of shit," Gold told her quietly. "You listened to some really boring stuff about me with great concern and caring. You wore some lacey, pretty underwear for me. You dropped to your knees and sucked . . . "he stopped before finishing, seeing Belle's slightly appalled face. "Woman, you're a perfect girlfriend," he ended.

"Really?"

"Why do you still doubt yourself? Don't you know how beautiful, how desirable, how damn sexy you are?" _How could she not know?_

"I am?" she answered him in a small voice.

He shook his head and let her up off the bed. She went in to grab a shower. He pulled out the sleek gold bra and panty set for her and went out to water the plants and feed the cats. He stopped himself from checking her out in the new underwear, wanting to spend the day in pleasant imagining. She caught up with him before leaving out, planting a quick kiss on his lips and warning him that today was going to be a scorcher. The temperature was already pushing 90 and was expected to hit 100.

Gold took his own shower, dressed and went on down for his coffee and scone. Gold sat and relaxed, watching the traffic, petting the black cat. He eventually managed his usual morning circuit walk and then swung by the apartment to change clothes for his yoga class. Bae had told him that he would try to get by for the class.

Bae met him at the little studio across the street from the bookstore. Bae had reluctantly decided to participate in the class this time. Gold watched his son who he knew was not so flexible. Bae pushed himself but his muscles were tight and he could not begin to get into the positions his father easily attained. The instructor and the other class members were quite kind to Bae, encouraging him to focus on his own path and reminding him that each learner was different.

Bae watched his dad easily shift into downward facing dog. His own pose was more like forward bent-over hippo. "How long did it take you to master that position Dad?" Bae had asked his dad.

His father looked at him, "It's supposed to be hard?"

Bae shook his head. So many, so many things came so easily to his father. A talented man. Clever, quick, but so vulnerable. Bae often thought of his father as a diamond, sharp, brilliant, but also fragile, breakable. This Belle his father had hooked up with, she seemed nice. Bae had caught her watching his father when she wasn't aware he was watching. She had looked at his father with such a softness in her gaze, he'd almost say there was longing, but Bae couldn't see what a young woman would see in a man his father's age, besides his money.

After the class, Bae was feeling that he might not be cut out for yoga. He had barely held on, confirming a suspicion he'd formed watching the first class that he was not flexible enough for this activity, while his father looked like a twenty year practitioner.

He was happy when the class was finally over. He and his father stepped out into some serious heat. Bae felt his skin contracting and had some trouble breathing as he transitioned from the air-cooled yoga studio into the hot street air. The two men walked across Biltmore to Belle's store.

Gold greeted Belle and gave her a quick kiss. "Shall Bae and I get lunch for you and Ruby and Ashley? I was thinking Posana's."

Belle sighed. "Posana's is pricey, but it is really good. Bring us back the kale salad. It has manchego cheese in it. And it's kale!" How Belle managed an enthusiasm for green, leafy things he did not quite understand, but he knew it was a constant of her personality.

Gold nodded. "Three kale salads, it is." He waved and he and Bae set off walking towards Patton Avenue.

"Have you had any more contact with the delectable Miss Swann," Gold asked his son.

"A little while yesterday. We connected for supper. She took me to Webo's"

"Oh, barbeque," commented Gold.

"That was a trip. Dad, she's amazing. She's quick and clever, funny. And she laid a royal one on me afterwards. Thought I'd gone blind. I've got another date with her tonight," Bae shared with his father.

"That's great," Gold encouraged his son.

"Dad, you and Emma? You two seem to have some kind of a relationship going. I know you aren't romantically involved with her, but what is going on?"

Gold shrugged. "She's been kind enough to help me out, going with me to different places when Belle was tied up in her shop. Emma also took me out to some places that served meat."

The two men had arrived at the restaurant. Bae glanced over the menu. "Are you getting the kale salad too?" he asked.

"Nah, it's a salad, please. I'm getting the trout."

Bae read the menu. "It comes with squash, almonds, cranberries . . . and kale. And what the hell is queen-noa?" he asked his father.

"Keen-wa," his father corrected his son's pronunciation of quinoa. "It's a super grain. Belle has also told me that its new popularity may be taking food out of the mouths of poor Bolivians plus it's being associated with deforestation."

"So you're going to pass it up?"

"Nope. Belle encourages me to make my own decisions."

"All right. I'm thinking of this BLFGT sandwich. Do you know anything about fried green tomatoes?"

"A southern delicacy. You'll like 'em."

"I'll chance it. Green tomatoes don't sound too good."

The two men ordered and sat back and relaxed.

"I can't get over how good you look, dad. You just seem so relaxed. You seem happy," Bae was smiling.

"I think I am, relaxed and happy."

"How's the Cricket deal coming?" Bae asked him

"Done. Cora insisted on connecting with me and we've made a deal we both can live with. I've made my final offer to the seven-some and I should know within a week. If it goes like I think it will, I'll be making the announcement within two, maybe three weeks."

"Is it going to be as big as you think?"

"Probably bigger. I suspect that once Cricket becomes part of Rumii it will equal everything else put together and then some. So far, I've got a car manufacturer who's interested. I also suggested to Cricket that they look into cameras, computers, hell, even television remotes."

"Not bad for a little company who came to you with an idea for a better flashlight."

"No, not bad at all."

Gold ordered crème brulees to add to the kale salads and they walked in the stifling heat back to Belle's book store.

"What's up next for you, dad?" Bae asked his father.

"I usually buy a book and sit in the shade and read it – where you found me and your mother the other day. I just relax and cool it."

Bae looked around. "Well, as nice as that sounds, I think I'm gonna head back to the Bohemian and connect with mom. She'd signed up for one of the two hundred dollar spa treatments and should be all mellowed out by now. I'd told her I'd walk her around Biltmore Village this afternoon."

"She looks good, doesn't she?" Gold heard himself saying.

"She does. It's about time. I think the divorce is finally looking good on you both," Bae told his father. "She seems to have more time for me now. It's like, now that I'm an adult, she's better able to relate to me."

Gold bumped fists with his son as a way of saying goodbye and settled in for a quiet afternoon. It was too hot to sit outside, even under the arbor with its ceiling fan. He found a quiet corner, a new book and settled in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Emma come in. She had evidently finished her pastry drop-offs. She stalked into the bookstore clearly looking for something or someone. She spotted him. She narrowed her eyes and walked over to him, quiet and determined. _She had been looking for him._

"I ought to punch you in the face," Emma told him without preamble.

Gold managed to look surprised.

Emma continued, "It's not over, Gold. You crossed a line."

"Gave you an interesting first date," he gave her a smirk.

"Not really, the guy told me that this kind of thing happens to him all the time." She sat down across from him. "I know he's your son, Gold. I had him checked out. It wasn't hard to find out who he really is."

"Are you going to throw him over because he's my son?" Gold was so hoping she wouldn't stop seeing Bae just for that reason.

"I don't hold his gene pool against him. It's not his fault his dad's a son of a bitch. If I wasn't required to be keeping an eye on you, I would so be kicking your ass."

Gold looked the little blonde up and down. "Don't let that stop you, dearie, but let me tell you that if you're going to try to kick my ass, you better pack a lunch, because it will take you all day."

"You know how to fight, old man?" she sounded disbelieving.

"Well yeah. I grew up in a gang, rose to the top levels. You don't get that far with just your teatime manners. When I started getting money, my insurance people encouraged me to get some marital arts training. I've got a black belt in three different styles."

Emma considered the man. "It is so tempting to call you out. Maybe I couldn't beat your ass, but I would certainly want to try."

_Damn, he hoped she didn't know about his promise to Belle. He would have to take whatever Emma decided to dish out in retribution. He didn't forward to getting his butt kicked by a girl. _

Emma regarded him for some time, then shook her head, "Nah, I don't want to beat you up, asshole. I think I'll have to come up with some other way to get back at you. Something big. Something that will hurt you. Maybe embarrass you."

He sat back and smiled mirthlessly, "Emma, do I need to remind you that I have a great deal of money which means I have a great deal of power." _Maybe a subtle threat would make her back down._

"May I remind you that I'm good friends with your girlfriend and she wouldn't approve of you being mean to me."

_Damn. She'd called him. He needed to try another tack. _

"How about I just pay you off?"

"What?" she asked, not following him.

"I offer you enough cash to forget about it. As I recalled you blinked at five million."

"Yeah right!" Emma scoffed. "You're gonna give me five million and I will forget all about you handcuffing and stripping me off?"

"I think I can get out of this for less than five million," he put his fingers together and looked her up and down.

"God, you're serious!" Emma had sat down at his table. "I don't think so! It pisses me off when people try to use money to buy their way out of jams! It makes me want to get back at you even more! I think that I'd like to . . ."

He never got to hear what Emma wanted to do. Her phone chirped and she glanced at it and then abruptly stood up, still looking at her phone. She then sat back down not taking her eyes off the phone screen.

"Oh shit!" he heard her say.

"Problem?" he asked.

Emma sat reading a moment longer, then looked up at him. "Huh? Uh, yeah there's a problem. I gotta go. We'll have to finish this later." She got up and started out the store but stopped and returned. "Listen, it would really help if I could borrow your car."

"The Lamborghini?" he was surprised. _No way in hell._

"Hell yes, like you would. No, I mean the little Prius. I've got to go for a bit of drive."

Gold looked at her. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He started to hand it to her, but then pulled it back and gave her a smile.

"Ok, then, what do you want for it?" she asked wearily.

"Forgiveness?" he asked hopefully.

She considered. "Tolerance," she told him. "I'm still gonna consider vengeance, but I won't try to cause you physical harm."

He nodded and handed her the key. She snatched it and quickly left out the building.

Belle had watched the interchange. She came over and sat by him. "Emma seemed upset," she finally said.

"I wouldn't know."

"She borrowed your key."

"Yeah, she said she needed the Prius."

"Any idea where she's off to?"

"Not a one."

OoO

_Emma had driven the legal speed limit in the little Prius. A lot smoother ride than the old Saturn. She had made some phone calls but still didn't have any idea of what she might be riding into. Some kind of trouble on the Interstate. Wanted a Fed to be on the scene and she was one of the closest that local law knew well and had any respect for. She made it down to the Saluda exit and pulled off to connect with the local boys. _

"_What up?" she called to them._

_She got all around greetings. "Emma, thanks for coming. We think we know what has happened, but this is not like anything else we've experienced," she was told right off._

_She talked more to the officers who had been on the scene of some of the first accidents. Several of them had spun out high on The Grade. They'd lost contact with one of their own who'd been first on the scene. _

_She drove behind a police car slowly and rounded the top of the curve that looked down into Tryon. There was a large spot on the highway. She pulled over and got out, kneeling down, to look at it. The police car in front of her had pulled over to and the two officers joined her. _

"_Think it's safe to touch?" she asked them. "It kinda stinks."_

_They shook their heads. She stood up and surveyed the road. There were quite of few of those same dark spots all over both sides of the highway. She saw that cars would hit them and spin, sometimes struggling to regain control, sometimes not regaining control and spinning out, slamming into the guardrails. Was this a spill of some kind? How did it get on both sides of the road? How toxic was it? Was it toxic? She knelt down again to examine the dark spot. _

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Gold heard a beep from his phone. An alert had come in. Trouble on I-26 going east, well it was actually going south from Asheville. He didn't think anything about and went on with his reading. By the time he finished the next chapter, there had been two more alerts. There was some kind of problem, possibly a serious problem on the interstate. He stopped to get an Italian soda from Ruby. He heard Belle was talking to some of her customers.

"Yes, if you're going back to Spartanburg, you're going to need to go Highway 25 to 176 through Saluda and Tryon," he heard her saying. There was more, "No, we have no idea. We're just hearing that there's some kind of obstruction and cars aren't getting through in either direction." Belle looked up. She had seen him and waved him over.

"Darling," she said to him as he came up to her. "I have a small television in my bedroom in my apartment." He waited for her to continue. "Could you possibly bring it down here?" she asked.

"Sure," he told her, but he was puzzled. She wasn't much for television, so he suspected something might be up.

"I keep getting phone alerts and my customers are having the same, that there is some big problem on I-26 and people are being advised to go another way. I just wanted to see if WLOS was reporting anything," she explained.

Gold complied, going up the stairs, opening the door into her small apartment, finding the portable set and bringing it down. He set it up behind the register. He turned it on and the station played an ominous musical piece and went right to a Special News Report.

Belle, Ruby and many of the customers gathered around to watch.

"We don't know exactly what has happened but our first reports indicate that cars are spinning out both coming up and going down the Saluda Grade. We have no idea why this is happening. Right now, we do know that the police are on the scene and they are trying to re-route cars on this road. They've called in some other branches of law enforcement. We are going to try to get into the area to get a better sense of what is happening." The pretty news reporter was looking directly into the camera in front of a nondescript forest background. The in-studio reporter thanked her and announced they would return to their normally scheduled program.

"What is the Saluda Grade?" Gold asked.

"It's a very steep incline that slowly curls around the Saluda Mountain. It's on the interstate and is considered one of the most dangerous stretches of highway in the world. It's not only steep, but it's high enough in the mountains to get a lot of ice. It also has a lot of fog," Belle began.

She continued, "I remember once that a school bus with a bunch of high schoolers lost its brakes and the driver was able to run the bus along the guardrails to get it stopped. They didn't go over the ledge, thanks to the driver but the kids were all bumped up and scared to death. Big eighteen wheelers jackknife and spin out all the time. Scary road to drive under the best of conditions," Belle explained. "When we went to the Tunnel, we came back on 25 so we missed it."

Gold nodded. "All right," he acknowledged what Belle had shared, but with no additional news reports coming through, he opted to go on back to his book.

It was two more chapters and staff and customers were still gathered around the set.

00000ooooo00000

_Emma had been involved with a number of shady operations with a wide variety of borderline individuals. Not just the usual gun-runners, gun-dealers and gun-brokers, but bombs, bombs of all sorts. It had been her specialty area and why she had been called in on this case. She had spied something when she had crouched down by the dark spill area. She got up and cautiously went over to look. It was a white object about the size of a big watermelon off to the side, lodged against the railing. She had gone over to it. Look like it was wrapped in plastic. She had leaned over to examine it. _

_Oh crap! _

_Emma began walking the area, counting. "How many of these are out here?"_

"_I don't know. You think it's important?" the young officer asked her. _

"_I think you should call your commander and have him do what he needs to do to get this road closed. It's got to be cleaned up before it'll be safe for cars," She directed him._

_The young officer nodded, wide-eyed. "You think it's a terrorist plot?" he asked in a low voice._

"_No, I think it's a combination of room temperature IQ and cheap drivin' whiskey," she told the officer._

0000o0000o0000o0000

"Any updates?" Gold asked.

Belle looked up, and crooked her finger, motioning the man over. WLOS had produced special theme music for this particular crisis and they now had a banner across the screen that proclaimed "Terror on the Interstate." The serious voiced young woman reporter was commenting.

"The stretch of highway on I-26 known as the Saluda Grade has been closed. It has been closed by order of the State Highway Commission. This affects the area between the Saluda exit and the Columbus exit."

The young woman continued, "We've known the Saluda Grade has been the focus of an on-going investigation today. Neither government officials nor police are confirming or denying if this may have been an act of terrorism. We do know that there is no going up or down this stretch of highway. We do know that other branches of government, include Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms have been called in to help with the investigation. We have not confirmed if Homeland Security has been involved in this. We do know that multiple ambulances have been called in as have hospital transport helicopters and all area hospitals have been put on alert. As we have details come through, we will break into regularly scheduled programming to update you. For right now, we have been asked by officials to warn people that traffic is being re-routed around this stretch of highway."

"What the hell happened?" Gold asked.

"They aren't sure," Belle answered. "As best we can hear, there's been some sort of spillage on the highway that has coated the surface of the road and cars aren't able to get traction and they spin out."

"What was spilled?" Gold asked.

"No clue."

It was a moment later when WLOS, with their music and "Terror" banner, managed to cut to a live feed from their helicopter. They could see around the tainted area. Gold spied the little yellow Prius parked up off the road mixed in with other cars, some official-looking, some not. Everyone was listening in but there still didn't seem to be any answers.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Anything new?" Gold asked Belle looking over at the television after knocking off one more chapter.

"Well they don't go ten minutes without bringing us an update. The governor's gotten involved and the very latest is that they have called out some guys in hazmat suits," she told him.

"Any idea what the spill is?"

"Not yet, but they recently said that it was not a toxic spill, but it was still going to be difficult for them to clean up. The road won't be opened for several days."

Ominous music interrupted them and again it was time for "Terror on the Interstate – A Special Report" again. The studio newsman was talking with the young reporter who had managed to make it onto site.

"You have news for us Ingrid?" the newsman asked.

"We do and we have some answers. I've been talking with some of the officers on site. They tell me that an ATF agent who's been on the ground and who actually went down into the area, has determined the cause of the accidents. The cause _has_ been determined. The agent has refused to be interviewed on the air but was gracious enough to give me some details."

"Go ahead Gretchen." The atmosphere was tense.

Gretchen shifted uncomfortably in her shoes. "As best as can be determined. . . "

OooooooooooO

"Some bonehead was driving a refrigerated eighteen wheeler with a load, and I do mean a load, of frozen Best Butter Turkeys. It wasn't a company truck. I had them call the president of the Best Butter Turkeys to find out." Emma was talking. She was exhausted and filthy dirty and greasy looking, not to mentioned, she smelled really badly. She was sitting on a blanket on Gold's prized Ekornes chair with her feet up. Belle had called Bae in when Emma had arrived on their doorstep. Gold had called and gotten a sirloin steak and loaded baked potato supper delivered for her from the Chophouse restaurant over on Woodfin. All of them were there and listening to her story.

Emma continued, "I suspected this was some fly-by-night operation and likely the back door of the truck wasn't closed or locked. There's a three state alert looking out for the truck. Anyway, the doors came open on the Interstate going up the Grade. The turkeys began bouncing out the back of the vehicle, unknown to the driver. They scattered on both sides of the highway, more than two hundred of the little bastards over a one mile stretch." Emma was taking bites of her supper and had started on a large vodka martini fixed by Bae.

She pulled her hair back from her face and took a drink. "Now, there were no problems at first, except if you happened to hit one it might dent your bumper or, if you were really unlucky, throw your car out of alignment. They were like cinder blocks sitting out on the highway the first hour or so. But then it started getting hot and traffic started picking up."

Gold supplied the next line, "And the turkeys started to thaw."

Emma nodded grimly. "At some point in time, there was a tipping point, and instead of being cinder blocks, the turkeys would go 'splat' when hit. When enough of them were hit, especially in the same place, they formed big puddles of grease and cars and trucks couldn't get traction and began to spin out, hitting other cars and trucks and hitting more turkeys and creating bigger puddles of grease. Amazingly no one was killed but several people were badly hurt and there was a lot of damage to a lot of cars and a number of trucks. Cars either went into the cliffs that go up the mountain on one side of the highway or into the guard rails on the other side of the road, which all thankfully held. But people were stranded. Even if you were able to get out of your car, walking was almost impossible. We spent hours throwing people ropes so that they could slide across the grease and get to somewhere they could walk away from their vehicles and also helping EMS workers get down to the cars. I must have slipped and fallen ten times, if I fell once."

Gold and Bae had both started laughing, earning a glare from Emma. "You wouldn't have been laughing if you had been out there. It must have been 110 out on that hot road. We had to work to get some of those people out of their cars and then help them get up or down to ambulances. So many were hurt or at least dehydrated."

Bae was shaking his head, "I've heard of roads closed because of ice, fog, dangerous bridges, earthquake damage, but I've never heard of one closed because of turkeys."

Emma closed her eyes and took another big drink. "Oh god, I smell like the stinking things. We had a couple of dump trucks brought in and we were picking up carcasses as we were going along trying to help the stranded people."

"Did they really get a hazmat team out?" Belle asked.

"Oh yeah. As the afternoon wore on, the turkey stench became overwhelming and DHEC arrived and decided there was a contamination possibility. They ordered us all out and ordered in the hazmat team. They couldn't just wash it away because it was, well, it was grease and the water would just run over it. They had to try a couple of things and came up with the notion of freeze-foaming sections and then scraping the grease up."

"What does my car smell like?" Gold asked suddenly making the connection.

"Like what you think," Emma told him crankily, but then she rubbed her eyes and her face. "God, you guys have been great. Thanks for the drink. Thanks for the food. Thanks for the use of the car," she gave Gold her sweetest smile, "Thanks for the drink."

"You already said thanks for the drink," Gold noted, still peeved about his car.

"And I'd been willing to say it a third time. I'm really thankful for that drink. She managed to stand, but was obviously sore from her unusual activity that afternoon. "I think I'm going back down to get a shower and wash my hair."

Bae stood next to her. "I'd like to go. I wouldn't want you to get handcuffed to a refrigerator again," he told her.

She looked at him and favored him with a slow smile. "I had the problem of my towel getting taken last time," she reminded him, just managing to be sultry despite her raggedy appearance.

"Now that I don't know if I'll be able to stop that from happening again," Bae told her, giving her his own gentle smile.

"I guess I'll just have to risk it," she told him and waving at Belle, she started for the door with Bae behind her.

Gold looked at the door as it closed behind his son and the turkey champion. When he turned back, Belle was looking at him.

"Did you already know that Emma was an ATF agent? And what did Bae mean about Emma getting handcuffed to the refrigerator?" she asked him. "And what was that about the towel?"

Gold smiled.

It was going to be a bit awkward, he acknowledged.

Belle had not been happy when he had confessed his prior knowledge of Emma's secret job, his method of returning the handcuffs to Emma. . . and then there was that towel thing.

"Belle, the job was not my secret to share but as for the other stuff, please understand, this is who I am. I still think. . . I will always think in terms of winning and losing, coming out on top. It will always be about power to me. And really, I just embarrassed the woman. I didn't discredit her ability to do her job. I didn't go after her finances. I didn't concoct a crime and have her arrested."

"But you didn't just return the handcuffs or leave them for me to return. There had to be payback, getting even."

"If it's any consolation, Emma doesn't feel we're even and is working on something to get back at me and I have already promised that I won't take retribution."

Belle narrowed her eyes. "And you won't have anyone else go after her either, will you?"

Gold shifted uncomfortably. "All right." _He had reassured himself that if anything Emma did was too bad, he could do just that. _"You're getting good at deal making, you know. The finer, sticking points."

Belle scrunched her nose up, "I've learned at the feet of the master."

He had turned away from her and gazed off into the garden. "You know I don't know that I can change that part of me – the drive to have the most power. My power is. . . what has sustained me for many, many years."

Belle came over and wrapped her arms around him. "I don't want you to feel you have to change. I just don't want you hurting people."

That had turned into a pleasant interlude when he found that, despite how good his imagination was, he hadn't done justice to her and the gold bra and panties. They fit her like gloves. He'd had fun slipping them off of her.

Afterwards, he had sat out on the roof garden for a while. Four cigarettes left. He had always known he wasn't willing to give up power. But now he had something else he wasn't willing to give up.

Belle.

_Twenty-six days down, sixteen days to go. _

**A.N. I did not make up the Saluda Grade Turkey spill. This actually happened a couple of decades ago; they had on-going updates on the television, closed the road down and had to call out the hazmat guys to clean up the mess. For months we could see big greasy spots on the interstate where the turkey grease had seeped into the payment. And there was the smell, omg the rank, rancid smell. **

**Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers: CharmedRumbelle (Chapters 2 & 25), RoxyMoron, Raspberry Not Pink, Stargate533, thedoctorsgirl42, Anonymous Nerd Girl, Thechurch, Mini Nicka, juju0268, ctdg, Grace5231973, TeamTHEFT, Samzi, Rumbelle4ever (Guest), RaFire, MyraValhallah, Lattelady, Leafena, Vacumatic, cheesyteal'c, maizeblue7, Hermitess, Girlyemma96, Just 2 Dream of You, and ****Lyssalia**

_NEXT: just a quiet, shorter chapter with a visit to a hardware store and updates on a couple of relationships (all this prior to The Sunday Breakfast chapter). _


	27. Fall Out

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 27**

**Fall Out**

He woke staring into the amber-yellow eyes of the white cat. She was on the bed looking at him. He abruptly sat up, startled.

He patted the cat and went into the bathroom to attend to his morning routine, his shower and dressing. He had taken to trimming his beard a bit. It was grayer than he liked seeing. If he were living with Milah she could have told him who to call to get the gray out. When he came out of the bathroom, the cat was still there sitting on the bed, her tail twitching.

He tried to explain himself to the cat, "She doesn't want me feeding you two breakfasts." He considered. _Belle hadn't made him promise anything about a brunch snack._

Ah yes, those finer, sticking points of the law, of agreements, of deals. The devil was indeed in the details.

This was one of the more difficult moral dilemmas he had faced in a while. But then Gold shook his head. He knew what Belle would want him to do. "Sorry Susie, you'll have to settle for my company."

Susie meowed plaintively while he finished getting his shoes on and he felt badly. She really did sound hungry. When the meowing didn't impact him, Susie began to stare at him. He had the sense the cat was planning something. It made him uncomfortable.

"I'll get Belle to talk to you about everything not being about payback. Maybe Belle can get you to back off." He didn't think it would help. He had the feeling that cats were all about power and control and didn't care who got hurt. _He liked cats._

He got to the door and saw a sticky note on it. In her fine, lacy script Belle had written him a note.

_Darling, _

_Please see what can be done about the kitchen faucet. It is leaking and probably needs replacing._

_Belle_

_P. S. I'm wearing the blue today._

The blue lace bra and lacey panties. _Oh my._ The bra had a lace panel across the top and if he had guessed correctly the panties should ride up a bit high in back and leave a tantalizing view of butt cheeks peeking out from under. He liked this mental image. He also liked how the color had matched her eyes perfectly. He spent the walk downstairs imaging how the ensemble would look on the woman from the front. . . and from the back.

As always she greeted him with a kiss and his coffee. She then distractedly dropped a scone in front of him. He saw quickly that she was gearing up for a busy day. What she had called "fallout" from the craft show: people who had come to town for the show, finished up and then decided to walk the town. They would find her bookstore and, energized by what they had seen earlier, would decide to buy a book on a craft, to try their hand at something themselves. While they were there, with one purchase at the ready, many would then opt to take advantage of Belle's esoteric inventory and pick up a second, or even third book.

He recognized the marketing ploys she was using and didn't want to get in her way. He sat with the black cat watching some of the early morning crowd. Ruby was wearing a ruffled apron with anthropomorphized cats sitting at spinning wheels with kittens chasing balls of yarn. _She must have saved this one especially for today. _

He went for his walk and then went back to the apartment to wait for the mailman. The Victoria's Secret packages were due to come in and, sure enough, he was there as the mailman buzzed him that he had some parcels. And now they were there, piled up in the living area, several boxes delivered from the lingerie store. No, Belle would not be pleased at how much money he had spent. Maybe he should ferret some away and just bring out another box every so often. The saleswomen there had done a good job. He should send them a special thank you. He made a call. Women liked flowers. . . and a small bonus check.

There was also a small bubble-wrapped package of something he had taken the trouble to special order himself for Belle. He hesitated. He had promised her _revenge_ _of a sexual nature _for her use of handcuffs on him. After their discussion last night, he wasn't sure he wanted to follow through with his plan. He re-thought Belle's criteria – she didn't want anybody hurt. Gold smiled. This wouldn't hurt. It might drive her crazy, but it wouldn't hurt. He would keep this. Soon, soon enough.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

He put the note in his jean's pocket and went on down stairs and knocked on Emma's door. There was no answer for some time. He began rapping on the door, loudly and persistently using the tip of his cane.

Emma finally came to the door. She was disheveled and wrapped in a sheet. "What?!" she said sharply when she saw who it was.

"I need you to take me to a hardware store."

She gapped at him a moment. "Fuck you." She shut the door emphatically.

He rapped again and raised his voice, "I have a key, Emma. You can open the door or I can."

There was a moment and the door was jerked open. "What do you want?"

"I need you to take me to a hardware store," Gold repeated. "Come on, get dressed. I'll treat you to lunch. If Bae's still here, he can come too."

"What makes you think Bae is here?"

"Well he followed you downstairs last night. Was it just to tuck you in and head on back to his place? "

Emma pulled a face at him, "It's none of your business."

"I would beg to differ, young woman. I demand to know your intentions towards my son," Gold said to her sternly, as he idly went around her apartment, picking up odds and ends and examining them.

Emma sighed. "He's gone home. Give me a moment." As she headed back to the bedroom, he heard her say, "I can't believe you have the nerve to come here. You act like I'm not totally pissed at you." He could hear the sounds of drawers being pulled opened and shoved shut and small, shuffling sounds. Emma emerged quickly enough wearing jeans, a tank top over a sport's bra and Doc Martins.

"So you're planning revenge on me," he shook his head. "It's a little like having a kitten determined to do you harm, cute, but after a while it does become annoying." He looked her over, then frowned. "No, no dearie, at least run a comb through your hair, woman. You look like you just got out of bed."

Emma rolled her eyes and disappeared into a small room on the side. He assumed it was the bathroom. When she came out she had combed her hair. He scowled. "Can't you put on some mascara and a little lipstick? I, at least, have a reputation to maintain and can't be seen out with trailer trash."

Emma pursed her lips, biting back a retort and went back into the bathroom. She snagged some of the samples that Milah had given her and took less than a minute to swipe on the mascara and slash on the pinkish gloss.

"Well?" she asked him when she came out for the third time.

"Is that what you're wearing?" he asked.

Emma had had enough. "Yes, you asshole. Come on. You owe me lunch."

She stalked by Gold and therefore didn't see his smile.

"There's a Lowe's on South Tunnel Road, Come on. Where do you want to eat?"

"As always, I'll defer to your judgment."

"Frank's Roman Pizza. It's in the area."

Emma had led the way out to the garage across the street from the apartment building and went up to the Saturn.

"I'd rather drive," he told her.

"Sure we can go to Lowe's in your Lamborghini. It is a couple of steps above Walmart. Or we can take the turkey-stink Prius."

"Ah shit." _He'd forgotten._ _"_All right," he caved to her irreproachable logic.

Gold gingerly got into the dusty, rattling Saturn. Emma cranked it up and moved on out of town, driving south. Gold made a call regarding the turkey-stink. He wanted it taken care of.

After a moment, he looked over at the pretty blonde sitting next to him. He finally spoke up, "You and Bae hitting it off?"

"Why don't you ask Bae?" Emma quickly answered.

"He's not here," Gold explained.

Emma drove in silence for a while. "OK, your son is a very nice man, cannot imagine how that happened, having met both his parents. I've only known him for a short time, but what I've seen, I like. He's smart, funny and a gentleman."

"So he didn't try anything with you?"

"You're determined to find out if we had sex, aren't you?" Emma sounded irritated. She sat a moment, steering the car. "Do you just want a yes or no?" she asked him.

Gold had to smile, "Bae has not had good luck with women. But you're a very different type for him."

"Really?" Emma had to ask.

"Oh yes. He usually dates sorority girls, beauty queens and debutantes. You're none of those."

"Just a breath of fresh air, that's me," Emma remarked acidly.

"Well, you are. You're real. What you see is what you get. I don't have to wonder where I stand with you. I also know you back your friends and would do anything for the people you care about."

"Well, now I'm blushing. It almost sounds like you're giving me a compliment."

"I am. Although you are irritating, I usually like you. And you're probably one of the few people I think I could trust."

"Gee thanks, Uncle Bobby. Or do I start practicing calling you Dae-ddy?" she asked him with a smile, slurring the syllables of the last word into pure Southern.

He looked over at her. "I shiver at the prospect of you becoming my daughter-in-law. You're already bossy enough. If you become part of the family. . ." he gave a quick shudder. "Of course you could probably handle Milah."

"She's not that hard, Bobby. She's not terribly bright and she wants people to like her. Those are the easiest kind of people to manipulate."

"Don't underestimate her intelligence," Gold warned her. "She can be very canny when there's something in it for her."

"Yeah, right, well here we are," Emma wheeled into Frank's Roman Pizza. "Come on. We can split a Godfather pizza. It's got meatballs, sausage and pepperoni."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After a solid meal, he and Emma were back on the road to drive the short distance to the Lowes. Gold walked by the lawnmowers but stopped at the grills that were on display.

"These run on propane?" he asked Emma.

"Most do."

"This would be nice on the rooftop garden."

"Yeah, for all those steaks you're grilling out."

"Hey," he defended his vegetarian friends. "You can grill other things besides meat."

"You can," Emma agreed with him. "But most of them taste best when they're served next to a grilled steak. Let's not get bogged down. You're here to get a new kitchen faucet. They're in the back."

Gold followed but was often stopped by different displays. "I didn't know there were so many kinds of light bulbs," he said once. He then stopped by the paint display, "Maybe I should have the inside of the apartment repainted. It's getting a bit shabby, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure," Emma told him, keeping a close eye on the man as he moved to the next aisle.

"This is interesting hardware. You know if you change the drawer and cabinet pulls, it can change the entire look of a room."

Emma didn't say anything at that remark, she just looked at him.

He ignored her. "Oh my, interesting tools," and he veered off into the smaller section that was set aside for hand tools and larger construction and building riggings. "These are very nice. I didn't know there were so many different kinds of saws."

"Planning on building something?" Emma asked him archly.

"No, but I could with some of these tools."

"Come on, I don't want this to take all afternoon."

He followed her back to the wall o'faucets. "Which one do we get?"

"Well anybody else would look at the ones for kitchen sinks, those with the right number of holes, something in their price range, and then get the one they liked best," she told him.

"Well, that leaves this section." He pointed to six columns of faucets, stretching floor to ceiling. "I don't know which one to get. None of these look like the one that's in there now."

"Which one d'you like?"

"Well, there's this bronze looking one. And this one with the high neck. And this one with the sprayer that hooks on." His eyes were glazing over and Emma recognized a man overwhelmed.

"Which one do you think Belle would like?" she asked him gently.

"Oh, that's easy," and he pointed to a medium priced one with clean, simple lines.

"Then get that," Emma told him. "Now I have a couple of things I need to get here." And she led him off to a very small section with automotive supplies. "I need some fuel injector cleaner for the Saturn. If we put in a couple of bottles over the next couple of refills it helps it run better," she explained.

As they walked to the register, Gold asked, "And why don't you all get together and get a better, newer car? I'm always concerned that the Saturn will break down, or won't start. . . or won't stop."

"I dunno. I guess we're all pretty tight with money. We're not rolling in it like some people. And a car is kinda like a college roommate. As long as it doesn't piddle on your stuff, make a lot of unnecessarily loud noises or start fires, you put up with it."

"As you say," he shook his head. As they came to the register, he pointed to her bottles of fuel injector, "I'll get that for you."

"Oh, I'll let you," she told him, but then smiled kindly, "Thanks though."

OooooooooooooooooooO

Gold had watched Emma nearly fill up the car and dump two of the fuel injector bottles into the gas tank. She then took the bottles inside and filled them with water and then tossed them into the back seat, joining the about eight other bottles, resting on the floor behind the driver's seat. _Not the tidiest woman._

"Why'd you fill up the empties with water?" he asked her.

"I dunno. Belle and Jefferson had asked me to, something about diluting what was left in the bottle. I'll get around to dumping the used ones later," she explained.

He paid for the gas, but definitely still had concerns about the little car. He didn't like the idea that Belle _or one of her friends, including himself,_ might be driving it when it gave up the ghost. He would make a call. He wanted a tracking device on the little car as soon as possible. If it was going to break down, he was going to want someone to be able to find it.

0o0oooo0o0oooo0o0

Belle had collapsed onto the sofa, sprawling uncharacteristically, lying with her eyes closed. "Don't ask me about today," she told him.

"Looks like you did a lot of business."

"Did we ever. One of the bigger sales days that I've ever had." She wiggled her feet. "Thanks for these shoes. My feet don't hurt nearly as much as they do after a long day."

"You're welcome. Get you anything?"

"Can you make me a mojito with mashed up mint and fresh lime?"

"Sure," he said and behind her he poured her a glass of scotch. "Here, my dear,"

Belle sat up and took the glass without looking and immediately swallowed a large mouthful. She promptly spewed it. "What the . . .? Oh lord, you gave me straight scotch!"

"I'm sorry, I've got two testicles and can't manage those sissy drinks," he explained unabashedly.

"Hey, James Bond drinks mojitos," she protested.

"James Bond is English."

Belle corrected him, "Actually the character is Scot."

"Well then, he's spent too much time among the English. I think I could kick his ass."

Belle puffed out air, exasperated. "Maybe, maybe not. Whatever, I can't drink straight scotch. How about one of those vodka martinis that Bae made for Emma?"

"How about a cold beer?" he asked.

"Excellent," she was willing to compromise. "But just one. I'm not going to repeat the wine bar experience."

"As you say," and he handed her one from the fridge. "You will be impressed. I went on YouTube and found out how to replace a kitchen faucet, followed the directions and here we have the latest thing. What do you think?"

Belle struggled up and went over to the kitchen. She stood a moment, looking at the new faucet assemblage, "Amazing. Absolutely amazing. A professional could not have done a better job." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

Gold recognized flattery when he heard it, but nonetheless. . .

"What do you think of Emma and Bae?" he asked her, leading her back to the sofa, well satisfied with her appreciation for his work.

"Well I don't know Bae, but I can tell you that Emma is smitten."

"How do you know that?" Gold never quite could tell about these things, settling in next to her on the sofa.

"She'd accepted a second date from him. She let him see her when she was at her worst, taking the risk it might scare him off but needing to find that out."

"They're out again tonight."

"Oh wow. What is this? Three dates in three days? That's pretty serious for Emma. She's the original one-night-stand girl," Belle told him. "Bae is an all right guy, right?"

"I think so, but I'm prejudiced," Gold admitted. "Now tell me, my sweet. Did you actually get around to inviting my devious ex-wife and her entourage to Sunday morning breakfast?"

"I did. She is bringing her. . . what do we call him? that pretty boy Killian Jones and her attorney, Regina. Mary Margaret told me that James also invited Daniel Bean. He's the nice young officer that just made detective. I've also called Bae and invited him."

"Well great, this will be like a dysfunctional family reunion," remarked Gold.

"Just like Thanksgiving," Belle agreed. "Well, I am curious about this Mr. Jones. What does Milah see in him?"

"Have you not seen him?" Gold asked her.

"Is he just a pretty face?" Belle asked him.

"I really haven't taken the time to get to know the man. My introduction to him was finding him humping my wife in my own bed. I really didn't stick around to check his resume and find out his areas of interests," Gold said petulantly.

"Of course you didn't, dear," Belle commiserated with him. "I just wondered if he is the one who is wanting something and is getting Milah to be nice to everyone."

"Enough about Milah. I want to see the lacey blue underwear." He sat back on the sofa and motioned for her to stand.

"Oh come on, sweetie. I'm really tired."

"Uh hum, take off your tank top and your skirt. And your shoes. Leave on your jewelry. And stand over here." He gave her a series of directions. She stretched and then complied.

"Hope it's worth it," she told him, standing in front of him wearing only the lacey bra, the pull-on blue lace panties, the silver necklace he had given her and the Walmart earrings, also from him. She was facing him. "What do you think?"

He gapped at her. There was a long moment.

"Bobby?"

"Take your hair down," he ordered and she could tell his eyes had gone very dark.

She complied.

"Shake your head," he gave another order.

She did.

"Turn around," he had one more request.

She again did as he had asked and stood with her back to him.

_Yes, just the right amount of luscious tush was revealed under the loose lace line of the panties. _

He had an urge, but wasn't sure.

"Come over here," he directed her. When she stood next him, he told her, "Straddle me, sit down on me." She smiled at him and sat as he had directed her. He ran his hands up and down her arms. "You are so incredibly beautiful. I look at you and I can't believe my luck. What do you see in me?" He leaned up to kiss her along the collar bone.

"You aren't serious about that, are you? You must know you are one of the most attractive men I've ever met." Belle lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, pulling him out from the sofa. She put her arms over his shoulders and began to kiss him on the chin, the cheek, the mouth.

He stopped her, pulling away, holding her by the upper arms. "Belle, I'd like to try something with you. I don't know if you're going to be on board or not."

"Of course I am, darling. What do you want to do?" she asked guilelessly.

He gave her his sexiest half-smile. "Try a new position," he told her.

"What?" she was intrigued. The man had already put her in every position she could think of, but, she admitted, she was lacking in imagination in this area.

"Actually it involves a different. . . perspective on things." He gently traced his finger around her mouth and then down her neck.

"I'm not following you," she told him.

"I will want you to lay down on your side and spoon with me."

"Well, that's easy. I can do that," Belle told him.

"Then I plan to lift your leg a bit and rest it on my leg. And then very slowly, I want to help you get very, very relaxed. I want to touch you somewhere I haven't touched you before."

Belle pulled back from him. "I don't understand."

"Belle, if you tell me that you don't want to do this, that you aren't ready for it, I will understand and I won't pressure you," he kissed her lightly on the cheek and pulled her back a little closer. "You are so beautiful. I want to enjoy you in all the ways a man can enjoy a woman."

Belle was still puzzled.

"There is another way that I can show you how beautiful I think you are." His hands had dropped to her waist and he slowly trailed them down her hips and around to her firm hind cheeks resting his hands there.

Belle suddenly realized what the man was talking about. She took a sharp intake of breath. "I. . . I think I understand. You want to have. . . to have. . . " Belle wasn't sure how best to say what she was now understanding.

He gave her a small smile. "Are you willing, my sweet?" he asked her very gently.

She hesitated and he was sure he was not only going to tell him, 'no,' but tell him she was getting her things and clearing out. He had pushed her too far.

In a very small voice she answered him, "I want to be everything to you. I want to please you." He heard her.

He pulled her in and kissed her long and hard, slowly standing with her, her legs still wrapped around him. Despite his long damaged and still weakened knee, he was now strong enough to carry her back to the bedroom. He managed to gently lay her on the bed and peeled off the blue lacey underwear.

He first caressed her with his hands, knowing her body as well as he did, he took less than ten minutes to bring her up and over to quick, hard release. He then turned her back against himself and reached for some things in a nightstand drawer. He needed condoms and lubricant and found these things immediately. He slipped a condom over a finger and began to trace around her little puckered rosebud, teasing it, gently pressing on her. He slipped his finger up to the first joint inside of her and he stopped.

"All right?" he asked her.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "Not bad at all." She was still langorous from his initial attentions.

He continued to speak quietly to her, "You're doing so well," he reassured her and slipped his finger up to the second knuckle. He heard her gasp and felt her tighten up. He waited, allowing her to adjust. In another moment he pushed in all the way with his finger and again, waited, allowing her to accept and relax around the intrusion. Once she had quieted, he withdrew and enjoyed her little whimper. He added some lubricant and began again, this time pushing in back and forth, slowly and smoothly. Belle struggled against him briefly but stilled and, _just what he had been waiting for_, she began to push against him. Then as he pulled out, he added a second finger into the condom and began the process again, pushing in to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way in and, once he was sure she was tolerating him, he began to push in and out.

"Managing?" he asked her. He wanted her to enjoy this.

"Uh huh," she answered breathlessly.

He pulled his fingers out and attended to himself, adding a generous dollop of lubricant. He was hard enough to pound nails. "I'm going to try coming in. I'll go slowly. You tell me if it's too much. Promise?"

Belle looked back at him over her shoulder. "I trust you," she whispered to him.

_Damn! _He kissed her passionately, trailing off across her chin and down the back of her neck. He quickly slipped on a condom and a generous amount of lubricant. He pulled her close to him and began to enter her, putting the head in. She gasped, "Oh!" and cried out. "Too much," she protested.

"I'll hold still, princess. You push against me when you're ready."

It was a moment, but soon enough, he felt her push, just a little. _Yes, yes, she was moving on him, back and forth, rocking, easing him into her at her own pace, taking him into her. _He very gently began to push into her as she pressed against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, then dropped his hand to the delicate juncture between her legs. While she rocked against him, he placed his hand so that she was now moving herself against his fingers. The double stimulation began to build: moving away from his hands impaled her on his enlarged cock, now embedded deep within her, moving away from his cock caused her to rub herself against his fingers. He could hear her whimpering, moaning, He knew she was building, getting close. He started kissing her neck again, grazing his teeth along the vulnerable line of neck.

He felt it start.

She began to shiver and then jerk alongside of him, Short, sharp screams tore from her, five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, nearly thirty seconds of her inner walls contracting and releasing.

_Good girl. This is what he'd hoped for._

He pushed her over slightly so that she was lying more on her stomach and began to seek his own reward. Struggling not to lose his mindfulness of the extraordinary woman beneath him, not to ravage her or tear into her, he began to move more swiftly, harder, faster, pounding. She was passed stopping him, still riding on her own euphoria.

He saw stars. He collapsed on the woman, momentarily crushing her with his weight but she was beyond caring and didn't protest. He regained his senses before she did and eased himself off.

"You all right?" he asked still trying to catch his breath.

"No," she told him. "I just realized that we could have been doing this all along. I had no idea," she was mostly asleep but determined to share her appreciation for his finesse. "That was an amazing experience." She had turned over to face him, was warm and cuddly as he wrapped his arms around her. She lifted her face to him and just managed to kiss him on the jaw line. "Thank you." She settled in and he just barely heard her, "I love you."

000o000o000o000o000o000

Emma had come up for air. She had put Bae on her sofa and had sat on his lap, straddling him while she lent her full attention to kissing him. She seemed to be using her mouth, her lips, her tongue, even her teeth in her efforts to entertain the man. He was enthusiastically reciprocating.

"You smell soooo much better tonight," Bae told her. "Look better too."

"Thanks, your dad came by and badgered me to comb my hair and put on a little makeup," she broke briefly and quickly shared with him.

"What? Why would he care?" Bae was smelling her hair.

"Oh, he had me take him out to Lowe's to help him buy a new kitchen faucet," Emma was busy pulling his shirt off of him.

"He couldn't do that himself?" Bae had begun to pull on Emma's tight t-shirt, pulling it out of her pants and slowly working it up.

"I think so, but we've had this thing since he rolled into town that I take him somewhere shopping on Saturday. We've been to Walmart, Ingles grocery, and all the way over to Ikea in Charlotte. I don't know that the man has ever had to go shopping by himself." Emma pulled his shirt down his arms and he lifted his arms out of the sleeves.

Bae shook his head, "My father is a master manipulator. And he doesn't like to do things by himself. But you're right, he hasn't had to actually go to a store and buy stuff since I was pretty little. He always has just made a call. I guess he's trying to fit in while he's here. He really seems to like you people." Bae lifted the tank top over her head and turned his attention to her sports bra.

Emma shook her head. "He is really aggravating. Always has to be in charge. I end up arguing with him every time we're together." She had reached between them and was unlatching his belt.

Bae had gotten the bottom of the bra lifted off of Emma's firm pert breasts and was slipping it up and off of her. "Then I suspects he likes you. Nobody, and I mean nobody, argues with him. They're all too scared of him."

"Didn't your mom argue with him?" Emma asked, helping him get the bra off over her head.

"She yelled at him a lot. That's different. You go toe-to-toe and try to take him on point for point. You've got to be pissing him off at the same time you're impressing him." Bae was now beginning to explore the shape and heft of her breasts, tracing his fingers up to the burgeoning nipples.

"Well, I'm glad your dad likes me, but how about you?"

Bae narrowed his eyes and gave Emma a slight smile. "You can't tell how much I like you?" He raised his hips just a fraction so that she could feel how much he was liking her.

Emma wiggled a little on his lap. "I guess so." She started kissing him again. "You know he wanted to know if you and I were hitting it off."

"And you told him?"

"Not one way or another. I didn't think it was any of his business. Let's not talk about your daddy anymore," Emma applied herself to a little more serious kissing, but then abruptly pulled away. "You know I'm not looking for anything serious, don't you?" she asked him.

"If you say so," Bae replied. "I tend to take things as they come myself."

"Good. That's perfect," Emma told him.

This time Bae would stay the entire night.

After all, it made going down for Sunday morning breakfast so much easier.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Gold sat out on the balcony again sitting with the black cat. Belle had quickly gone out, exhausted from both her busy day and his attentions. He went over and over it in his mind. _She loved him._

There were four cigarettes left. He opted to smoke one of them.

_Twenty seven days down, fifteen days to go._

**Of course, of course many thanks to my ever-delightful reviewers. Several of you naughty girls asked for a return to smut – I took a(nother) chance with this chapter going half a bubble off vanilla-sex central here (and in a direction I don't often see with fanfic). Thanks to all my reviewers, your comments really inspire: CharmedRumbelle, Lattelady, ctdg, Samzi, thedoctorsgirl42, DruidKitty, cheesyteal'c, MyraValhallah, Leafena, Aletta-Feather, Tinuviel Undomiel, Just 2 Dream of You, Grace5231973, xanimejunkie, RaFire, Hermitess, RoxyMoron and Mina Nicka**

**Rumbelle4ever (Guest): no, you haven't missed the part where Gold takes revenge on Belle for her role in the handcuffs event – that is to come. **

**claypottery12: ah, the Southeast Animal Fiber Festival – I mentioned this in Chapter 13 **_**Telling**_**, when Gold spends some time in Mary Margaret's shop. It is one of my favorites Asheville events, I'm there every year and drop about 200 on yarn. Gold is not planning to be in Asheville in October; he's only there through early August, so we're not planning on heading there (Now, I have not mentioned the Herb Festival in early May – also one of my never fail to attend events, which Gold also missed, but I had to pick a season and decided to focus on Bele Chere which narrowed my events calendar). **

_NEXT: Sunday Morning Breakfast_


	28. Breakfast

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Breakfast**

**CHAPTER 28**

"Morning beautiful," he greeted her. "Are you all right?" _He seemed to be asking her that frequently. _

"I'm fine," she reassured him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "That was extraordinary," she told him.

"I was concerned," he admitted._ He'd had a moment of alarm that morning (although he was pretty sure that he'd followed his routine); he thought he might have been swept away in the moment and not used a condom during The Activity. He'd recounted his actions and confirmed that, of course, he had (concerned about tearing, disease prevention, and there was actually that slight risk of pregnancy from 'drippage'). _

Belle continued, "Yes. You pushed me again and I toppled over, didn't I?"

He dropped eye contact with her. "I do take advantage of your inexperience, don't I?"

Belle agreed, "You do, you do." Belle sat quietly, "I have a hard time telling you 'no,' you know that? I think there's this teenage girl inside me who's so thrilled to have a boyfriend and is afraid that if I say 'no' that I might lose him."

He considered, "Interesting. I'm so astonished with having a woman as wonderful and as beautiful as yourself as my girlfriend that I'm afraid you'll wake up one morning and realize that you can do sooo much better. Someone younger, someone better looking, someone nicer." He continued, "I think I use sex with you because I figure it is the best thing I can offer to keep you around. You won't let me buy you the Library of Congress or France. I have to use what I have available."

"And you think that sex is the best thing you have to offer?" she asked him, genuinely surprised.

"Well, yeah. I'm trying to use honesty, affection and respect but they're not as much fun as sex," he quipped, but promptly winced, and apologized, "Sorry, it's very hard for me. I'm not used to being honest, affectionate and respectful. I'd prefer it if I could just drag you off somewhere and lock you in a dungeon to keep you completely to myself. I could actually arrange for that, but eventually I'd get arrested for it. . . and I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't like it," he looked up at her to confirm.

Belle made a face, "No, I wouldn't. You'd just keep me somewhere all to yourself?" Belle asked him.

"If I could," Gold admitted honestly. "Not the most modern thinking, I know. But I like to 'acquire' things, beautiful things." He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry if I pushed you again."

"As I recall, you did give me every opportunity to say 'no.' And then you let me control the. . . activity."

He made eye contact with her. "And you were satisfied?"

"I was, you must know that. I recall screaming out how satisfied I was."

"But then I fell on you, like a rutting boar. I was afraid. . . I was afraid I might have hurt you."

"I'm fine. I would have told you if there was a problem."

"Promise?" he asked her.

Belle took her own deep breath, "I guess that is something I have to work on," she admitted to him.

"Belle, I'm not going to walk out on you, if I ask you to do something and you say, 'no, hell no.'"

Belle smiled. "I'll remember that."

"But we can do what we did again sometime, right?" he found himself asking with a grin.

Belle threw a pillow at the man. _Insufferable imp. And she'd gone and fallen in love with him. _

_And had told him so. _

_She wondered if he'd even heard her. _

0000000000000

Belle wore the new red silk underwear the man had pulled out for her (he had been rather tentative about making the suggestion this morning - no doubt working on that respect thing). She had reservations about the resulting new profile it had produced for her body. She had stared at herself in the mirror.

"I really appreciate you doing this for me. You look lovely," he had reassured her.

"I look like. . . I look like. . ." she wasn't sure what to say. The snug undergarment pulled in her waist and lifted her bosom and, like the white bustier which had given her cleavage, the red silk also produced the affect of an ample bosom and a tiny waist. She had slipped on a simple tank top and a full skirt but she felt she looked . . .

"I'm changing," she told him.

When she came back, she had chosen a different top, one looser, with a higher neckline. There was no cleavage, but her figure was still outlined and there was no disguising the womanly curves and generous endowments she possessed.

"You don't have to wear this stuff, you know," he reminded her. "I appreciate it, but don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

She shook her head, "I think I look pretty good. I'm just not used to showing off."

"You look . . . glorious. Are you ready to go down now?" he asked her.

She nodded and was surprised to watch him pour himself three fingers of scotch.

"Isn't it a little early?" she asked him.

"Absolutely, but I know these people and this," he held up the glass, "is a very necessary precaution. I'm much less likely to try to kill any of them if I'm a little mellowed out. Want some?"

She shook her head. _No thank you._

ooooooooooooo

James, Mary Margaret, Ruby and a new young man were already at the breakfast. Jefferson had prepped a larger than usual spread. On the buffet line were grits cooking in a slow cooker, hashbrowns, whole wheat toast, seitan bacon, soysage, several types of muffins, several tofu-based frittatas, a large bowl of strawberries, bananas and peaches mixed together, orange juice, grapefruit juice, even some fresh-made tomato juice. There was hot tea, different kinds. And of course there was coffee (Belle had brought over some of her own equipment, flavorings and add-ins) and Jefferson had even included some cow's milk at the request of his non-vegan friends.

The young man was introduced as Daniel Bean. Gold knew that this was the young officer who had been pulled into Emma's cocaine gambit and, evidently, he had been recently promoted to detective. He was a big guy, dark hair, quiet, but pleasant enough. Didn't talk a lot which automatically raised him in Gold's estimation.

Gold fixed a plate and went and sat in a dark corner. He planned to watch this side show, not be on center stage.

He watched as Ashley waddled in, _how close was she to delivering? _Then came Peter and Wendy. Wendy immediately hugged Belle who was circulating among her friends. Wendy was still jumping up and down, evidently still excited about the possibility of meeting her idol, Ariel. Peter looked somewhat sullen.

Then Emma and Bae came in together. That caught Gold's attention. His son lightly put his hand on Emma's back and she didn't break it off. Gold had no question that his son had spent the night with the pretty blonde.

Everyone had gone through the buffet line once and were eating when Belle had come over to sit by him. She looked down. "Maybe they aren't coming," she said to him.

He shook his head. "They'll come. They want something, remember? I know Milah. She has to make an entrance," he told her.

As if on cue, the door burst open and in came Milah, dressed in a long flowing 'Asheville' skirt, tank top, with her long, dark lustrous hair hanging straight down her back. She was followed by Regina and Killian Jones. Milah searched the room and found Belle. "Darling, I hope we aren't too late. I didn't realize how actually early seven o'clock was. I mean I knew it was early, but I didn't know it was. . . early."

"You still managed to get up in time to get here," Belle told her.

"Not really, I haven't been to bed yet," Milah confessed.

Belle led her to the coffee and fixed her a caramel macchiato, using the supplies she had brought over from the bookstore.

"How did you know I like macchiatos?" Milah asked her but then, without waiting for an answer, turned to introduce her companions to Belle and the others. "Everyone, this is Regina Mills, my wonderful friend who also happens to be my attorney."

Regina gave everyone a sour smile and an upturned nose. She obviously had better places to be, more interesting things to do and more important people to be with.

"And, of course, the love of my life, Killian Jones."

The tall young man gave the group a quick, easy smile and nodded. "I want to thank all of you for being so kind to my Milah. She keeps talking about how nice you have been to her. I can't thank you enough."

_Well, that sounded just lovely._ Gold was watching the smooth talking operator charm the crowd. Jones was good at it, he'd have to give the oily young man that. Slimy Irish accent women seemed to like. He figured Jones's looks didn't hurt him either.

Belle offered Jones coffee also, black with five sugars. Jones had the grace to be impressed with Belle's odd talent.

"Exactly as I like it," he told her. "You must be a woman of remarkable. . . sensibilities." He allowed his fingers to touch hers as he took the cup.

Gold nearly gagged, Jones had put enough innuendo into 'sensibilities' that it sounded dirty. He watched Belle and was gratified that she immediately pulled back from the man. She glanced over at Gold and murmured something that he couldn't hear from his vantage but it did make Jones step back from her.

Belle gave Jones a little smile and then turned her attention to Regina who was standing as far off as she could from the gathering. He could hear a bit of their conversation.

"You aren't a coffee drinker, are you?" he heard her ask Regina. "Tea?"

Regina gave her a condescending look. "I supposed _he_ told you that." And she glanced over at Gold.

"Bobby? No. He's mentioned you were his wife's divorce attorney. And that your first job was with his firm. He thought you had an aptitude for contracts."

"Really? He said that?" Regina didn't sound like she thought Bobby would have ever said anything remotely kind about her.

Belle continued, "But you thought you could make more money as a divorce attorney."

"And I was right," Regina confirmed.

"Let me introduce you to everyone," and she began to lead a very reluctant Regina around to everyone.

Regina did perk up briefly when she was introduced to Jefferson, who certainly had his own share of charm. Gold watched Belle go from group to group, chatting pleasantly. _She got along with people so bloody well, much better than he ever did. _

Regina didn't sit long near Jefferson but spotted Gold in his dark corner and soon enough was sitting next to him.

"You said I had an aptitude for contracts?" she asked him.

"I did and you do. I wish you had stayed with my business. Maybe not quite as much money, but better job security and a nicer class of clientele," he told her.

"Maybe," Regina almost smiled. "But there's a _lot_ more money in divorce – you should know that," she said sweetly.

Gold gave her a tight smile.

Regina continued, "You seem to be starting a new life for yourself – new town, new look . . . new girlfriend."

Gold nodded.

"Milah's beginning to start again herself. You should brace yourself. She's almost at a point that she doesn't still need you."

"Well now, that sounds like something I'd like to see," Gold told her.

Regina looked at him. "Are you sure? Finding out that Milah doesn't need you anymore? That what she couldn't find with you, she's been able to find with someone else? – that won't bother you? Finding out that Milah is willing to give up not just you, but your money too? Will you be able to handle that?"

She had gotten his attention. "What are you talking about?"

Regina smiled at him. "I guess you'll find out. I'd like to be there. She's always been the one to need you more than you needed her but that's about to change." Regina looked around. "Any real food to be had at this party?" she asked.

"What you see," he gestured at the buffet.

"Shit," Regina muttered and got up to go and pick her way through the food.

Gold was mulling over what Regina had told him and watching Belle. She was spending time with Bae when Gold felt a shadow and the big new detective was standing next to him.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

_Why yes, I do, thought Gold._

The young man sat down before Gold had a chance to respond. "I'm a bit uncomfortable around people I don't know and particularly around really pretty women I don't know," the young man confessed.

"You're Daniel Bean, aren't you?" Gold asked him.

"I am. And you're Mr. Spinner."

"Most people call me Gold."

"Mr. Gold?"

"No, just Gold," Gold knew Emma and James had recruited the young man to help with Emma's mission. They trusted him. He caught the direction of the young man's gaze.

"Beautiful woman," Gold noted. "But a bit cold."

"I saw you talking with her. Painted up city woman," Daniel told him. "Really, really nice looking. And a lawyer too, I hear. That means she's probably kinda smart. Do you think she'd looked twice at a good ole' boy who's spent more time around horses than people?"

Gold had no idea.

Daniel was rapidly convincing himself he didn't have a shot. "She's probably got a fella already," he said.

Gold looked at the young man. He probably deserved better, but what the hell. "She doesn't have a man in her life and she likes horses," he said.

The young man perked up, "Really?"

"Well, she used to. . . like horses, that is. But she doesn't like the food here," he added, not sure why he shared that bit of information. It couldn't possibly benefit him.

"Well, hell, I'm going in," the young man got up and went over to Regina. Gold watched her. Sure enough she looked the young man up and down with an expression of complete disdain. Daniel kept talking. He had to give Daniel credit; he didn't give up. Gold did catch a quick glance from Regina, as if Daniel had referenced him. She looked bored.

Daniel did gesture to the food and said something to Regina that did seem to reach her. She looked at the young man with renewed interest. Gold watched them chat a little longer and then, very calmly and very discretely, the two left together.

"Well that makes for an interesting couple," he said to himself. He hoped the young man was made of sterner stuff than he appeared to be. Regina was capable of chewing him up and spitting him out.

The next thing he knew, Emma had abruptly joined him, surprising him by sliding in next to him with her plate.

"Hey Begbie!" she said to him.

He cringed, "Been checking the NCIC site again? Please, please don't be calling me that. I left that name behind a very long time ago."

"If you say so," Emma was grinning as she took a few bites of her food. "What? No smarmy comments about me and Bae?"

"I'm hardly in a position to make judgments," he responded giving her a little smirk.

Emma shrugged, "Ok, ok, you've beat the information out of me. Your son and I are having a little fling, all right?"

"Whatever. Just don't hurt him." he told her.

Emma ran her fingers through her hair. "Nicest guy I've been with in a while. I actually kinda like him. How's it going for you?"

"At this very moment. . . just kill me now," he told her.

"You'll survive," she said.

"You're a mean woman, Emma."

"Found out anything yet? Why they're here? I don't think it's for breakfast."

"I can tell, you're a trained investigator. But no, not a clue. But give them time."

Emma gave him a smile. "Hang tough, Uncle Bobby, hang tough." She squeezed his hand and went back to join Bae.

The next person to slip in and sit down by him was Peter Banning. "I'm going to die before she's eighteen," he told Gold.

"Wendy?" Gold asked.

"She's not legal," Peter told the older man. "I don't know how much Emma told you, but I'm older than I look and I'm not really a street kid. I'm with a special undercover task force to get a handle on the runaway population." Peter looked over at the pretty little blonde who was still jumping up and down. "If I do her now, it's dereliction of duty, not to mention, molestation." Peter sighed, "I'm not gonna make it. If I do somehow survive, I don't know if she'll still want me. How do you keep a younger woman interested?" he asked the question that had brought him over to Gold.

Gold blinked. _She feels sorry for me? She lost a bet? She's doing community service with me? _He shook his head. "Can't help you. I don't know what she sees in me," he told Peter.

"Well, your money doesn't hurt, even though I know Belle's not a golddigger. Golddigger, ha ha, that's kinda funny." Peter laughed at his own joke.

"Hilarious," Gold deadpanned.

"Right now, Wendy's real excited about Ariel coming to town. I'm hoping Belle can hook them up. I think Wendy's real talented."

"I'm sure Belle will help if she can."

"Belle's a nice lady," Peter told him.

"I think so," Gold agreed.

Peter bumped fists with him and got up to go stand near Wendy.

Gold swished his coffee. It was cold.

The next thing he knew, Belle had come by with some fresh, hot coffee.

"Need anything else to eat?" she asked him. She was smiling and exuded warmth and comfort. _What did she see in him? _

"No thanks," he met her bright blue eyes.

"How are you doing?" she asked him.

"Just watching the show," he told her _hoping he wasn't embarrassing her_. "What did you say to Jones to make him back off."

"Eeuu, after the 'sensibilities' remark? I told him I was too busy shagging you senseless at least twice a day. I know it was tacky of me, but I just wanted him to know you and I were . . . "

Gold managed to look shocked. "You mean you 'used' me to impress this guy, you let this guy know you were doing me twice a day to get him to back off?"

Belle had the grace to blush. "Okay, I get it. If you had said that about me. . . sauce for the goose. But whatever, now he thinks we're. . . "

"Doing it like bunnies?" he supplied.

"Happy bunnies," She leaned in and kissed him. "I'm still chatting people up."

"Have fun," he told her but he lacked enthusiasm. _He so appreciated Belle's attentions and she seemed to be enjoying herself, but when would this Breakfast be over?_

He enjoyed his hot coffee. Next to slither down next to him was Milah. _Oh shit._

"This is interesting. You do this every Sunday?" she asked. Then without waiting for a reply she began, "I want a favor. A big favor."

"Do you now?" he braced himself. _This was it._

"I think Belle will think it's a good idea. Help us all reach some kind of closure."

"What is it?" he asked. _Just get it over with, already._

"Well the producers also all think this would be such another ratings boost. The show is doing very well right now, as you must already know."

"What is it?" he asked again. _Please, just spit it out._

"They want to do a live show of the commitment ceremony."

Gold sat, waiting. _And?_

"They think. . . and Killian agrees. . . that it would be amazing. . . if you would agree. . ." she stopped. "Oh I don't think I can go through with it. I can't imagine you would agree under any circumstances."

"What is it?" he asked yet again. _Could she just get out the favor without all the drama?_

Milah dropped her eyes, then slowly raised them to his, her voice timid and faltering, "They would like it if you would agree to give me away during the ceremony."

"No," he answered.

"We could work it so they don't show your face. You could leave right after you walk me down the aisle."

Gold closed his eyes, took a breath, and then he responded, "No."

"It would make you look like an amazing good guy. I would agree not to make any nasty statements about you after this. I would agree not to mention Belle."

"Let me make this very clear, Milah," Gold lowered his voice and spoke slowly and clearly. "You are not to make any more nasty statements about me now. And you mention Belle at your own peril. I still hold several of your mortgages and I could arrange for something to happen to one of your homes, maybe I quit paying the taxes. Also, I still manage your financial investments. Something could go awry with any of these. They might not be a productive as they've been. Oh, hell I gave you this damn show, I could take it away."

"I told them you would never agree."

"And for once you were right. Hair-brained notion if I ever heard one. The only way I would ever consider such an idiotic gesture would be if the man was actually marrying you."

Milah sat for a moment.

"What?" he had an abrupt sinking feeling.

"He would, you know," Milah told him quietly.

"Marry you. Hah! Neither one of you is willing to give up the alimony, the houses or anything else I do to keep you in gravy!"

"Are you sure, Bobby? Are you so sure?" she asked him.

He looked at her. This was a bluff of some kind. He had no doubt. Milah would never give up the money. "I'm so sure." He leaned over to her. "I'm so sure that if a marriage ceremony looks like it's coming through I'll make a contingent settlement on you – and hell, I'll even throw in one of the houses."

Milah looked at him. "I may hold you to that," she got up, "and walking me down the aisle at the ceremony."

Milah was gone. He was taking deep breaths to calm himself. He had almost gone over the top of the table at the woman.

"You still have strong feelings for her, don't you?" It was Belle. She was now sitting next to him. "What did she say that got you so upset?"

He cleared his throat. "Searing hate is a strong feeling, I agree. She wants me to walk her down the aisle at the commitment ceremony, to _give_ her to Killian Jones, the man that broke up our marriage. She says they're thinking of actually getting married."

Belle leaned her head back against the wall of the booth they were sitting in. "Now I thought your marriage was broken long before Killian came on the scene," she said quietly. "And if they are thinking of getting married, isn't that a good thing all around?"

"She won't do it," Gold was adamant. "She won't give up the alimony, the houses, the financial stuff I'm still doing for her."

"Would it bother you if she could walk away from all that?" Belle asked him.

He thought a moment. "It shouldn't bother me, should it? But it does." He panicked, "Oh god, does that mean I still have feelings for her?" _It couldn't mean that, could it?_

"It could, but more likely it means that you haven't quite moved on from the divorce," Belle acknowledged. "Divorce is like death in some ways. Sometimes it's a relief, but there's always unfinished business, regret, guilt, anger, even some residual affection. You may wonder how dare she find happiness with someone else when she didn't find it with you?"

"I can understand her walking away from me, easily," he told Belle. "But not from the money. She loved the money, more than she loved me, more than she ever loved me."

"I don't know that," Belle told him. "I think she did love you. . . once."

He looked at Belle, "Do you think you can really, really be in love with someone and then. . . have it end?"

Belle looked sad. "I think it does happen. I think you can starve love. Love has to be nourished and nurtured. And if it's not, yes, I think it can die." Her big blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "You and she had passion, no question, but that wasn't enough to sustain your love. Maybe you didn't have respect for each other."

He looked at her, holding her gaze to his. "I'm working on that, respect for you. . . and honesty. I know I screw it up often, but I am working on it," he promised.

Belle smiled and moved in to kiss him on the mouth, "We're both working on those things, honesty and respect."

Gold sighed and shook his head, "I'm going to walk her down the aisle, aren't I?" he asked Belle.

"You'll have to decide that, Bobby." Belle smiled at him again, leaned in and kissed him one more time and went back to the crowd.

Bae was the next intruder. "You're looking a little ragged, dad," Bae told him.

"Just been talking with your mother," Gold confessed.

Bae had to smile, "She still sets you off, doesn't she?"

Gold nodded, "And she shouldn't. I mean we're divorced and I'm happy I'm out of it and she's not a part of my life so why should I care about what she wants to do?"

"That's easy. Because you can't let anything go, dad. Anything you've ever had in your possession, you want to hang onto it forever, even if it is absolutely no further use to you."

"Shit, that is insightful and meaningful. It sounds like something Belle would say." He sighed. "I don't have feelings for her. I don't want her. But I guess I'm not happy that she might be finding happiness with someone else."

"Especially when that someone else is Killian Jones," Bae observed astutely.

"Especially," agreed Gold.

Bae sat quietly with his father. "Emma is quite a woman. I could develop feelings for her."

Gold smiled, "I thought you two might hit it off."

"Even though you warned me against her?"

"Well, everything I said was true, but there's a lot more to Emma than just being aggravating," Gold tried to explain himself.

Bae shook his head, "I've got to head back to New York soon. I doubt I'll get a chance to really pursue anything."

"You never know," Gold consoled him. They sat a moment in companionable silence.

Bae glanced over at Emma. "No, we don't ever know," he agreed and rose to go back over to the woman.

The last one to come to Gold was. . . Killian Jones.

"Sir," he began.

"Jones," Gold greeted him coldly.

Jones sat down by him as far away as he could get but still be at the same table.

"I've been trying to get her to marry me," Jones began.

Gold raised an eyebrow. _What the hell was his game? Jones was as enamored of the money, of his money, as much as Milah was. He didn't like Jones. He didn't trust the man._

"How's that going for you?" he finally asked.

"She's not sure. She says 'yes,' she says 'no,' she says 'I don't know.'" Jones shrugged, "It's your damn money. I can compete with you in the bedroom. . . easily. But I can't compete with your money."

Gold managed to restrain himself, consoling himself with imagining he was beating the handsome ruffian's face in with his cane.

"So what do you want?" he heard himself asking.

"A settlement," Killian replied. "A single substantial payoff, rather than the trickling out of the alimony and the sundry fees you're still getting hit with. It would cost you less over the long haul."

"How much?" Gold asked. If he were going to do this, he'd want it done as soon as possible.

Killian took a deep breath. "Five hundred million."

Gold didn't flinch. "How about the houses?"

"We'd just want the one in Beverly Hills."

"And you'd still want me to pick up the taxes, I assume. Anything else?"

"Her investments. You'd continue to oversee those."

"And?"

"She'd be able to continue with her television show. It is really doing well."

"And?"

"That's it," Killian sat back.

Gold looked over at Milah. _Interesting. Killian was offering him a way out – a complete break (except for the financial investments overcite thing and house taxes thing – this was actually so much better than what he had now). _

_Was Regina on board with this? _

_What would Belle think? _

"I'll get back to you Monday evening," Gold told him.

"Good enough."

Gold was silent after the breakfast and even later, sitting in his apartment through lunch. Belle did her usual stir-fry and a variety of simple household chores.

"Drive me to Earth Fare?" she asked him.

He smiled at her. "Love to."

She sat by him in the car, looking at him. "Milah asked me to lunch this coming Tuesday," she finally announced.

"Just you and Milah?"

"I think Milah and Regina and, I think maybe, Regina's mother."

"Tell her no thanks. They're harpies and they will kill you and pick your bones clean," he told her.

"You think I can't handle myself?" she asked him.

"You're brilliant. Of course you'll be able to handle them," he said lukewarmly. "Take a snake bite kit, something for venomous spiders and a shark cage and you'll be fine."

"I'm planning on meeting them at the Red Stag at the Bohemian."

He rode in silence for a while. "Is there anything I could say that would talk you out of this?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she told him.

"The lady I am currently keeping company with, my ex-wife and two of my previous paramours." He shook his head. "Oh yes, this can only turn out well for me."

Belle giggled.

"If anyone can come out on top here, it will be you. I've come to appreciate that you're not only nice, but very smart, especially about people." Gold allowed her a moment then announced, "Killian wants to marry Milah and wants me to make a lump sum settlement on her and end the whole alimony thing."

"Shut up!" Belle was surprised. "Are you going to do it?"

"Thinking seriously about it. It'll cost me less in the long run, particularly if we sell off the additional houses they won't be keeping."

"Isn't what they're asking like killing the goose that laid the gold egg?" Belle asked.

"If they can invest the money wisely, they'll come out ahead. It won't come to them as cash, but as stocks and other investments that I'll transfer into her name. It'll save on taxes and much of it is already in a position to return additional money over and above the face value."

"You think they're in love?"

"As much as two people who only care about themselves can be, I guess. I want to talk to Regina and will want to make sure that Milah has an ironclad pre-nup to protect her from Killian in case he plans to take her money and run."

Belle sat quietly as they pulled into the Earth Fare parking lot.

"You have an interesting relationship with your ex-wife," she finally observed.

"I have an interesting relationship with every woman I've ever known," he told her. He looked over at her, "I hope you're not jealous. I have absolutely no interest in any kind of relationship with the woman. I just don't want Killian to get his hands on my money without having to put up with Milah."

"You just have problems letting go, I know." Belle patted his hand.

000000

He was still considering a divorce settlement, while stroking the black cat, counting his cigarettes (five left tonight), sitting out on the rooftop garden.

_Twenty-eight days down, fourteen to go_.

**Thx to my great reviewers (who have been sticking with me for a while now). I've recently had a rash of pretty negative reviews (related to the last chapter). Of course the harshest of these reviews came in totally anonymously (not even as a nom de internet guest). **

**I had a lengthy response typed up for here, but never mind - they/ve already said they won't be around to read it - and my Second Rule of Life is Never Argue (try to explain or reason with) a Pumpkinhead (that's someone who is not going to hear you, doesn't matter for what reason, they are not going to hear you****); so you have to let it go. For this story, I have conceptualized Gold essentially as a recovering addict and this is not for them. **

**Thx To: cheesyteal'c, RoxyMoron, Just 2 Dream of You, RaFire, ctdg, Ying-Fa-dono, Lattelady, DruidKitty, Grace5231973, Aletta-Feather, Hermitess, zenobia2, MyraValhallah, Samzi, Girlyemma96** **and Leafena **

**And to the classiest of my nay-sayers: NicoleMuenchSeidel, GoldenBelle (Guest) (thx so much, you were one of several to note the oversite of the very necessary second condom—I've gone back and fixed that - how did I miss that? ouch) and ****RumBelleLoveIsHope - you folks identified yourselves and offered constructive comments - thx**

**And to: CharmedRumbelle and rumbelle4ever (Guest) thx so much for your pep-talks. Understand, my training is in cognitive behavior therapy and I know well that it would be irrational for me to think that I am ever going to please everyone. **

_Next: Emma is preoccupied and needs some tension released_

_Gold makes a (business) offer and a couple of phone calls_


	29. Ice Cream

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 29**

**Ice Cream**

He knew exactly how he wanted to start the day_. _Right now he was sharing the bed of the most beautiful, wonderful woman he had ever met.

He had wanted to wake her up making love to her, starting with her toes and working his way up, but this morning, this morning, he had opted instead for a simple breakfast in bed (the delectable toes would be there tomorrow).

It had been unknown territory in the kitchen, working without any written recipes. He could follow a written recipe with greatest aplomb, but trying to recall basic cooking from his long-ago bachelor days was hard for him.

He cracked open, salted and gave a quick stir to two eggs before pouring them into a frying pan. He turned on the burner beneath the frying pan. He didn't like how pale the toast turned out the first time and so he put it into the toaster to go another round. He cut up a grapefruit and held it onto the orange juicer to extract the juice. He stirred the eggs. He went out to the rooftop and cut a couple of the little marigolds and then took them in to put inside a glass of water. These he set on the corner of the serving tray. He examined the toast (seemed really brown now) and put it on the plate. The eggs were a single unit when they slid onto the plate. The plate went on the tray. He put the grapefruit juice into a glass and added the glass to the tray. He added a napkin and some cutlery. He went into see Belle who was still abed.

"What is this?" She was a little bleery-eyed, struggling to wake up. _She had anticipated him waking her up nibbling on her toes._

"Sit up, sit up. I've brought you scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast and grapefruit juice. We didn't have any oranges. It is my entire repertoire of breakfast talents."

"What is this for?" she asked him.

"Understanding," he set the tray down and pulled the legs out from beneath the tray so that it would stand up. "I think you understand my relationship with my ex-wife better than I do. I'm so struggling here and you're really helping me." He set the tray above her lap and sat on the bed next to her. "We had a hellish marriage. I guess I'm just a vindictive son of a bitch and I don't want her to find happiness with anyone."

"Now, a lot of people really end up hating their ex-spouses, but I don't know that makes you a bad person," she told him. She hesitated, "Bae also told me that you have a problem letting anything go."

"Yeah, I'm rather a hoarder. Dr. Hopper said it comes with growing up so impoverished. I want _things._ When I met Milah she was so beautiful, so desirable. I wanted her because she was so pretty. Had nothing to do with _her, _with who she was, what she wanted. She was a trophy, a status symbol, another thing. And now I can't quite let her go."

Belle nibbled on the slightly burnt dry toast, the overcooked rubbery eggs and sipped the bitter grapefruit juice while she listened. The marigolds were strong and intrusive._ This meal was awful. However could she tell him?_

He sat quietly gazing off. "I think you're beautiful too, obviously desirable, but I don't think of you as just another _thing_. You're an interesting, amazing person. I admire your strength. I wish I could be as kind, as nice as you are."

Belle gaped a moment. "Wow. I never realized my life was so enviable."

"You, your life, your heart. . . oh you must think I'm a complete bampot." He got up but she took his hand before he could walk away.

"Of course I don't think that."

"You don't even know what it is," he chidded her.

"No, but I don't think you are one," she assured him. "What is it anyway?"

"A crazy idiot," he supplied.

"Well maybe you're half a bampot. What would that be, a bam or a pot?" she said teasing.

He thought about it. "Does that mean you think I'm crazy or I'm an idiot? I could make a case for either one." He lightly kissed her on the nose, "Now, my dear, my morning reminders are to be respectful, honest and affectionate where you are concerned," he told her. "You, my dear, just need to work on being honest and telling me when I'm being an arrogant asshole."

"I'll work on it," she promised him. _After she got through this disastrous breakfast._

"How was breakfast?" he then asked her.

She hesitated. _Darn, honesty, hummmm. _"The thought was lovely. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you doing this."

He was smiling at her and folded his arms, "But the food was. . .?"

"Lovely. . . it was. . .," she looked at him and he was shaking his head.

"Be honest," he coached her.

"All right," she closed her eyes. "Let me help with this." She got up and led him back to the kitchen. She pulled out a fresh frying pan and put it on a burner, turning on the stove and then pulled out some fresh eggs. "You, make some more grapefruit juice," she directed him. She proceeded to give him a quick lesson on frying eggs (hot pan, a little butter, forcefully whisked eggs, not quite cooked through, salt added after cooking), made some fresh toast (on the right setting) with added butter and then put some sugar into the grapefruit juice. She also picked a couple of petunias and cosmos to put in the flower glass.

He had to smile at her after sampling their mutual efforts. She fed him a spoonful, "This is so much better," he told her. He picked up his own spoon and then fed her some of the eggs. He followed up with a piece of toast he had broken off. "Belle, I'm still here, even after you told me something you didn't want to, that you thought I might not want to hear. I'm not stupid – I knew my breakfast was a disaster. And I'm glad you were honest with me." He gave her another mouthful of eggs. "And I'm really glad you made a second breakfast. This is delicious," Belle fed him another spoonful, with a little toast.

He chewed and swallowed, "You're too good for me, Belle. I try to be a better man around you, but we both know how that works out." He got serious, "What do you see in me? How can you care for me?"_ He didn't mention the 'I love you' he'd gotten from her earlier. He'd wondered if she knew she had even said it, if it had been uttered by an already asleep and befuddled woman._

Belle hugged him. _The man was so fragile, so unsure of himself, so convinced of his unlovability. _"How could I not?" she asked him.

They finished feeding each other the remnants of the breakfast. Belle grabbed her shower, dressed and kissed him before going out.

Gold cleaned up in the kitchen, then got up and got his own shower. He came out again to face The White Cat.

"Susie, I can't feed you. I'm trying to be honest with Belle and she doesn't want you eating two breakfasts." The cat didn't move. He spoke to the animal softly, in his most seductive voice, "Can I pet your skanky ass? Change your freakin' litter box? Get you some high priced yarn to shred? Catnip mouse? Real mouse?"

Susie didn't blink.

_Damn, he'd looked at eyes like that behind a gun barrel. _

There were several specialty pet stores in town, one on Haywood, another on Battery, maybe one on Wall, if he recalled. He should be able to find something that might help make it up with Susie. She looked like she was just waiting for an opportunity to trip him up at the top of the stairs or put a hair in his soup or just eat his face off in his sleep.

He planned to follow his usual morning routine, get wonderful, perfect coffee, (maybe skip the scone), take a walk around town, then go to yoga, and then make a smoothie. Today he also planned to go by The Gourmet Chip and bring back sandwiches for everyone.

He ran into Emma on his walk. She was heading back to the co-op from her bakery drop off. She almost walked by him without noting his presence. He called her name, "Miss Swan?"

She startled. "Oh Gold. Hey, sorry, I'm a little preoccupied."

"You look stressed. Walk with me?" he asked her.

She thought a moment, "No. That . . . I probably. . . need to do that," she told him. "No, I don't think I should."

Emma followed him though, not watching where they were going. He watched her closely. The normally alert, sharp, effervescent Emma wasn't herself. She was clearly preoccupied and disturbed.

He explained he needed to get something with catnip in it for one of Belle's cats and they stopped in a store on Battery Street. After making a purchase they left the store. It wasn't busy on the streets, the performers having not set up just yet. He knew something was up because the woman didn't make a smart ass remark about him running a cat's errand. He asked her quietly, "Anything I can do?"

"Huh? What? Oh," Emma shook her head. "I'm sorry. I got some news that's a bit . . . disturbing."

Gold made no response. The woman would either tell him on her own or not. He didn't need to question her. They continued walking back towards Belle's store, going down Battery, turning onto Haywood, and then going up Patton to Broadway.

Emma sighed. "Some stuff is starting to happen. I've been expecting it. I'm hoping I've covered all the bases." She looked up at Gold. "Some bad people are in town. Keep a watch out on our friends."

"Of course. Emma, you know my background. I've not led a pampered life. I'm able to take care of myself, perhaps not as well as I could when I was twenty-five, but better than most people."

"You have a gun permit, don't you?" Emma asked him. "I know you have a gun in the apartment."

He nodded, "I've got the permit."

"You may want to start packing," she told him.

Gold smiled at her and lifted his cane. Very slowly he twisted the handle and pulled out a pistol barrel. "It has only one shot but if aimed correctly that should be enough."

Emma gave a short laugh, shaking her head. Her cell phone vibrated and she pulled it out. "Oh shit," she said after reading a message.

"Something up?" he asked.

"Somewhat. It's for later tonight." She replaced her phone, "Damn, and I've got a date with your son tonight. I'm going to have to cancel."

They had gotten back to the bookstore. Emma stopped him. "Thanks. I guess I needed a little quiet time. You're a good friend," she told him.

"Let me know if there is anything," he told her.

_That was different._

000 ooo 000 ooo 000

Bae had not been happy to get her call. He didn't press her on why she cancelled, but did suggest she at least meet him for lunch. Something very easy. The McDonalds on Biltmore Avenue down by the Biltmore Village? Emma was hesitant.

"That's a little upscale for my tastes," she told him.

"What?! It's a McDonald's!" Bae was trying to figure this out.

"That is no ordinary Mickey D's. They have a hostess and they seat you. You don't get French fries and catsup there. You get hand cut pommes frites with a seasoned tomato reduction. I'd prefer to just get a steak. I don't think I'll be getting supper."

"Not a problem. You know this area well. I can come by and pick you up and we'll go wherever you suggest," he told her.

"Probably Ruth's Chris Steakhouse there at Biltmore. I know it's a chain, but it's pretty good and it's close in."

Bae was fine and agreed to pick her up in front of the apartment at twelve.

0000000000

Gold had finished up with his yoga and his smoothie and then had gone on to The Gourmet Chip for lunches. He got the Pressed Parisian Melt (hold the bacon on three of these, thank you). He got Parisian chips, Southern BBQ chips and Salt and Vinegar chips to take back for all to share. After lunch he went back to his room and made a phone call.

"Leroy, Gold here," he said succinctly. "You got my official offer?"

He listened and had to smile. _Yes, Cricket had gotten the offer. And yes, it was yes. Why not yes? They had nothing to lose at this point. And so very much to gain. Rumii had the only offer on the table and it was more than fair. It was more than generous. _

"Oh yeah," Leroy added. "A couple of the guys have been talking to the news media. You're going to get some calls."

"Uhmmm," Gold wasn't happy to hear this. _He hadn't wanted things leaking out before the official announcement. Guess that ship had sailed._

"Yeah, I tried to tell them to keep quiet, but they're all so excited about the possibility of becoming gazillionaires that they're blabbing to anyone who will listen. I'm guessing that by tomorrow, the calls will be coming in."

"Thanks, appreciate the heads-up. I'll go ahead and make plans to make the official announcement as soon as I get your fax with everyone's signatures. . . . by this evening, huh?"

Gold listened a while longer and then hung up. _Damn. _Well he couldn't expect to keep something this big a total secret. He guessed he was lucky that it had stayed as quiet as long as it had.

He sighed. This might prove to be a bumpy ride.

He called Regina. It went to voice mail. He left a message. "I want to renegotiate the divorce settlement into a lump sum. Killian Jones suggested what they wanted and I'm pretty much willing to do what he suggested. But I also want Milah to get an iron-clad pre-nup before she marries that bastard. Get things drawn up. I want to move on this right away."

O00000o00000o00000O

Belle saw the man. He was sitting in his usual place on the fan-cooled porch. He must have come in earlier when she was busy and bought a book or came in with one of the books he'd gotten another time and was still reading.

She took a deep breath. _She had wondered how much of their relationship was just sex. Well some, for sure. And she knew, as naïve as she had been, that she had been an easy target for an experienced, powerful lover. She had tried to convince herself it was just sex. She had tried to convince herself the feelings she had for the man were just reflecting her base desires. She had tried to convince herself. . . and she had failed. She had realized she was in love with him, really in love. He was clever and kind, although he was also arrogant and self-centered. He could be tender, but would push her limits. He was sweet, but also there was a dark, ruthless side to him. He wasn't always the most stable of men. He wanted to project an image of being surly and mean and awful, but he had such a soft vulnerable center. _

_What was she going to do when his vacation was over? He would go back to making millions and millions of dollars and she would be left hoping she made rent and electric. He would go back to his Armani suits, and his six-figure cars and his government deals and she would be left with her bookstore and her evening readings and her charities. He would go back to his mega-rich financial world and those beautiful women she had seen him with in pictures and she would be left with. . . no one. _

Her chest tightened. She steeled herself.

_Well she already knew that you didn't have to have a man in your life to be fulfilled. She had also learned that a man could be interested in her. And that she wasn't a loser in bed. Yeah, she could come out of this entire experience a stronger, more confident person. If he could move on, she could move on. There were plenty of fish in the sea. _

_But did he ever look good in his tight jeans and tight tee-shirt. He was wearing his usual walking sandals. His hair was a bit longer than when she first met him and his beard was beginning to take shape. Nice touch of gray there. She knew those eyes of his were a warm chocolate brown with tiny gold flecks . . . and his eyes would crinkle when he smiled. His voice was a soft burr that make her insides vibrate. His fingers were long and strong and capable and. . . omg. . . he was eating an ice cream cone._

She watched him, licking the cone. It was one of those waffle cones, wrapped around itself into a true cone shape. When the ice cream dripped onto his fingers, he would lick his fingers. She felt herself growing warm. She knew what those fingers felt like. She knew how talented that tongue was.

"Oh my god!" it was Ruby who had come up alongside of her. "That man is sex on a stick," she pronounced. The two women watched him lick his way up and down the cone and over the scoop, at one point putting the top of the scoop into his mouth and obviously using his tongue to swirl the ice cream around before gently pulling away. "Is he that good in the sack?" she asked her boss.

Belle nodded and responded breathlessly. "Oh yes."

Both Ashley and Wendy, who were in the store helping out, came over.

"Wow, he is just licking over that entire scoop, isn't he?" Wendy noted.

Belle glanced over at her, "Wendy, you're too young to watch this," and, at a look and a nod to Ruby, the protesting girl was led back into the shop by the barrista.

There was a drip that ran down his hand and he slowly began flicking his tongue all the way up his hand, all the way to the tip of his finger. Then he was back attending to the cone. He worked his way back around the top of the cone.

Belle glanced over at the time. It was three o'clock. A relatively slow time for the store. She made a decision.

Belle went out to the porch area and stood before him.

He noticed her and smiled. "Want me to get you one? I came downstairs and noticed a booth out on Pack Place selling them. It's very good." He took another lick.

Belle reached over and plucked the cone away from him.

"You come with me," she told him.

He was concerned. "Am I in trouble? Belle, have I done something?" he got up and was following her.

"Follow me," she led him back into her store and went down the hall where the bathrooms were and in through the green door that led to The Backroom. He had never been in this room before. He knew this was where she received her new shipments and sorted them out for the front of the store. He managed a quick look around. It was amazingly neat and organized with stacks of cardboard to go for recycling in one corner, bookshelves from floor to ceiling along two of the walls, and a large, very sturdy oak table in the middle of the room. The room had been painted white and was very well lit. There were windows up high. She shut the door after them.

He turned and was about to say something when he felt Belle push him back onto the table.

"Belle?"

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked him with a slight edge to her voice.

"I don't know," Gold was genuinely bewildered. "I was sitting in your outside coffee area finishing up the book I had gotten yesterday and eating an ice cream cone when you came and got me." He really didn't know what was up. He was actually confused.

"Eating that ice cream cone," she explained.

He made no response. He wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"You were licking it like you've licked me. You were caressing it like you've caressed me. You were making love to it like you've made love to me," she told him.

"I was?" he hadn't been aware of this. "I thought I was just eating an ice cream cone."

"Apparently the skills transfer," Belle remarked coldly. "Now get on the table for me," she directed.

Gold managed to hop up and sit with his legs hanging off the short end of the table. With Belle's help he removed his tee-shirt and then, handicapped because she still held the cone in one hand, she began to unfasten his pants.

"Uh, Belle. It is the middle of the afternoon," he cautioned her. "I'm kinda tired," he protested.

She ignored him and reached behind him to pull out his wallet and opened it to retrieve a condom. She ditched the wallet onto the floor on top of his other clothing. She reached down and helped pull off his sandals. She then pushed him back down onto the table and went to the side of the table. He lay on his back with Belle hovering over him. Her hand brushed his hardening member. She began to drop kisses on his chest and trailed her fingers over him. He watched her closely with half-lidded eyes. She motioned to him to raise his behind and she pulled his pants down to his knees.

By now the ice cream had begun to seriously melt. Belle held it over his naked chest and dropped the cold ice cream onto him. He would gasp when it hit his flesh. Belle then leaned over and licked it off. She continued to drop the ice cream, slowly, moving along in circles, down his body reaching his stomach. He was holding his breath and by now his boxers were nicely tenting. She traced a finger along the waistband and slowly began to pull them down, over his erect member. He lifted his butt so that the boxers came off of him. Belle gave him one of her sparkling smiles and then returned her attentions to his tensed body. She dropped the ice cream on his lower stomach. She put her lips on the pooling drip and took it off with her tongue. Finally, after drawing out the anticipation as long as she could, she dropped the ice cream slowly over his hardened cock and each time, Belle licked, lipped or mouthed the drip off. From time to time, she would pause and breathe over the cooled area so that he would be hit with an intense pulse of warm air.

The heat/cold contrast was driving him insane. Not knowing where he would experience the next sensation was driving him insane.

The ice cream was almost all gone. Belle had begun to nibble on the cone and licking it over one more time, she offered it to his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it and put part of it into his mouth. She followed with putting the remaining bit of cone into her own mouth. Eventually, chewing down on it, their lips merged around the sweet waffle. She then pulled back and offered him each of her fingers to lick off and he complied, lingering over each finger separately.

She made eye contact with him. She smiled.

Belle pulled off her tank top revealing a pretty white bra with little yellow flowers embroidered all over it. She reached under her skirt and pulled off a delicate matching panty, and dropped the panty to the floor. She then climbed onto the table and sat on top of him. She positioned herself with one leg on each side of him, her skirt splaying out around them. Sitting down on him, she splayed her hands on his chest and rubbed her hands over him. She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

"Do I taste better than the ice cream?" she asked him in a husky whisper.

"You certainly do," he told her kissing her back and tried to grasp her upper arms in his hands.

She evaded his grasp and reached up and unwound her hair, dropping it down and shaking her head. Gold hesitantly reached around her waist and began to slowly inch his hands up. Belle shifted her weight down, so that she was sitting below his proud shaft. She pulled her skirt up and was able to caress him in one hand. She unwrapped the condom to put it on him. She lowered herself onto him. He surged upwards but then quickly turned his attentions to removing her bra. It unfastened and he gently left his hands under her breasts to cushion them as she moved up and down on him. She often leaned forwards to kiss him.

"Belle, this feels fantastic," he encouraged her. His hands went around her back and he pulled her down onto him. He was able to continually push up against her efforts.

Belle felt the familiar tightening and spiraling that preceded her orgasms. She closed her eyes and focused on the deep heat within her and the grinding against delicate lady parts. Forgetting where she was, Belle began to cry out when the pulsing started and she began to climax. Gold pulled her down to his mouth in the attempt to swallow and quell her cries but he was unsuccessful; her sweet cries filled the tiny room.

Belle slowed her movements, resting on him.

He chuckled. "My dear sweet girl, you've done this before. I'm not done. You need to keep going."

"Damn," Belle swore uncharacteristically, "you are so bossy."

"I'm so glad you like that in me," Gold told her smugly. "Now finish me off, girl," he told her, massaging her back and thighs and pushing up against her.

Belle complied and it wasn't long before she saw him close his eyes, bite his lower lip and felt his hands grip her thighs hard as he gave one last surge into her.

Belle collapsed on him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"That was wonderful," he told her, sitting up, still grasping her. He was very soft and gentle with her, rubbing her arms with his hands.

Belle suddenly became aware. "Oh no! I was kinda noisy wasn't I? They must have heard me! Oh no!" she covered her face and managed to blush.

"Nothing to be done about it now," he was philosophic. "We could tell them we were sorting the mail and you thought you saw a mouse." He shifted her off the table, steadying her and then he followed. He gave her one of his half smiles. "Or we can tell them I saw the mouse and screamed like a girl. I'm sure they'll believe that," he told her blandly.

She glared at him and began to reach around for her clothing, handing him some of the garments she had pulled off of him earlier.

He watched her, amused at her embarrassment. "You're going to have to go out of here eventually," he told her. "Unless you want to wait until closing time." He leaned in to her and whispered, "And never come back to your own store." He obviously had something in mind they could do until closing time.

"Incorrigible," she chastised him. "I guess, we'll try the mouse story," she told him and preceded him out of the backroom. Gold lingered.

"I'm going to have such pleasant memories of this little room. . . and ice cream," he said to himself.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Clothes were scattered beginning right inside the door and across the carpeted floor.

They hadn't made it to the bed. . . or even the bedroom.

_Emma had thanked Bae for lunch, digging into the New York strip as if she hadn't eaten in a couple of days. He had sat quietly, enjoying the company, enjoying the view, picking at his own food. _

_He had finally said, "You seem tense. Anything I can do for you?"_

"_Oh gee, yeah, I guess I'm lousy company. I'm really preoccupied and incredibly tense."_

_Bae had let his eyes drift over the pretty compact blonde. "I know something that really helps with tension. If you're interested and have what? twenty minutes? I could put myself out for you and try to help you."_

_Emma had had to smile, "Oh Bae, Twenty minutes? Have some self respect, man. I'd think you would be able to manage better than that."_

"_Oh absolutely if you've got it to spare," he had narrowed his eyes and smiled and Emma had felt her stomach flip. Sometimes, sitting across from Bae, she had some sense of what Belle saw in Gold. Both men had a slow style. With their deep brown eyes and knowing smiles, they exuded an irresistible appeal. Emma had had to remind herself to swallow. And breath. _

"_I've got the time," she had told him and had allowed him to pay the bill and lead her back to his posh hotel suite._

_They had started kissing in the elevator and Emma was completely hugged up against him while he fished out his card to open the hotel room door. He had pulled her inside and pushed her up against the wall, kissing her harshly while lifting her up to allow her legs to wrap around him. They were tearing at each other's clothing and soon enough he had begun to steer them back to the bedroom. They didn't make it, collapsing onto the thick carpet and rolling over each other, each determined to gain the upper hand. _

_Pictures fell off the walls, lamps were pulled off onto the floor, chairs were tipped over. _

_Emma had been able to land on top but then had stopped for a moment to remind Bae, "I'm still not interested in anything permanent. This is just a booty call."_

_Bae had nodded and resumed his attentions. _

When Bae had dropped her off, Emma had given him a quick kiss on the mouth.

"Thanks, that was exactly what I needed," she told him.

"Uh Emma. I'm going to have to get back to Manhatten. I will be coming back every so often because of my mom's commitment ceremony thing so I know I'll be around."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear you're going but I understand. I'm glad you'll be back," she seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of seeing him again.

"I'd like to call you when I'm back in town. Would you be all right with that?" Bae asked.

Emma gave him a broad grin. "You bet. Look forward to seeing you again." She hopped out of his blue Mustang and waved him off.

_Back to work._

Bae sat in the car. Wow! That was one remarkable woman. Smart, sexy, sassy. He smiled. He certainly saw why she and his dad butted heads. For himself, Bae knew that he really liked her, not just because she was a challenge, but because of the spirit he could see within her. A woman of substance and quality. Maybe a woman he could spend. . . well, he was getting way ahead of himself. He first had to get her to see him as something more than _tension release. _

00o000oo000o00

Gold sat in the rooftop garden, enjoying the lemon scent wafting over to him in the late evening. He could smell a faintly sour smell which he now recognized as tomatoes. Sitting next to him was the black cat. Gold glanced at his phone. He'd made the distasteful call to Killian and let him know that he was willing to negotiate a lump sum settlement pending a real and for true marriage. Now on his phone, Gold saw that there were more than ten messages from different media outlets. Hell, he owned a major share of the stock in his own media network. Why would these people think he would talk with any of them?

Well, truth be told, his network specialized in reality shows, reruns and wrestling matches. They didn't offer the serious news capacity of any of his callers. He knew he wasn't going to be up to making a Full Ginsberg, that was for sure, but he could give an exclusive to one of the bigger guys.

He didn't like the media. They had not been particularly kind to him during his divorce. But they could be useful in his current situation. He looked over the caller ids'. Now, there was a likely candidate to put in the driver's seat. Malinda "Mallie" F. Scentz. She was quite the bitch, but she could handle the circus that was likely to come. He texted her, letting her know that he wasn't up for the early morning show but could make something in the afternoon, say two-ish. He could probably get some preliminary comments out of the way tomorrow.

Gold looked over. The white cat was looking at him. _Yeah, if she could, she'd push him over the edge of the building. Tomorrow, Susie, just wait until tomorrow morning. _

_Oh crap! Belle was to have lunch with the MacBeth Wyrd Sisters tomorrow. He had tried but had not been able to talk her out of it. And after that came Bele Chere. And then, too soon, the vacation would be over._

He checked his cigarettes, four left from the original ten he would start with every morning. Still struggling to break the six cigarette barrier.

_Twenty-nine days down, eleven days to go. _

**A.N. ok folks, this was one my ice cream fantasies (which by the way works much better in fantasy than in real life – in real life you're left very sticky and have to change the bedsheets and the cone doesn't always drip at the right rate and the entire scoop can fall off, which can be a real buzz kill for your partner). txm **

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers (for all your kind comments and support): TheChurch (Guest), Just 2 Dream of You, Leafena, Ygritte the Huntress, Anonymous Nerd Girl, ****rosehustle1****, Grace5231973, RoxyMoron, ctdg, The Prince's Phoenix, NotAsCritical (Guest), SakuraBlossom58, MyraValhallah, ellie c (Guest) (ha ha, enjoyed your pun), jewel415, CharmedRumbelle, AnEloquentFacade, maizeblue7, Samzi, Aletta-Feather, Joyce V, Girlyemma96, **

**Guest (1), Guest (2), Guest (3) (sorry about the typos – I read, reread, reread, etc. and still will find the occasional screw-up), **

**Mary B (Guest)(I can handle a couple of negative reviews, I don't expect to be universally loved and adored – it's the anonymous, nasty, mean spirited ones that irritate me)**

**Wandering over (Guest)(now aren't you clever – thx). **

_Next: The Luncheon (this chapter is running a bit longer than some of my others). _

_And Gold makes an announcement_


	30. Lunch

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 30**

**Lunch**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He was watching her flit and fret about the bedroom. He loved watching her in quiet moments, doing routine, simple acts. This morning, however, she was clearly agitated.

Belle was beginning to dress, wearing one of his robes, and she just nodded in his direction. Still going through the plethora of underwear he had bought for her, she selected a lacey black brassiere with a matching thong. She was looking long and hard at the thong – not her usual style.

"Problem?" he asked her.

"I've never worn a thong. They always seemed kinda . . . well, trashy. I mean, my rear end is just going to hang out there."

He couldn't repress a smile. "You have a lovely rear end, my dear. I think I've already shown you how much I adore your rear end. But if you aren't comfortable, then change to another pair of knickers. You're going to need to be at your best going into that nest of vipers."

Belle sighed, still considering the thong as she sat on the edge of the bed. "It's good to try something new, though." She was still hesitating.

Gold leaned over and placed a small kiss on her shoulder. "Well, I guess if you find it uncomfortable, you can always take it off," he gave her naughty smirk.

"Yeah," agreed Belle. "And now I have this vision that while dining with your ex-wife and her friends, my purse falls open and this thong falls out." She slipped on the little triangle with its skinny, lacey straps.

"Better than having a pack of condoms fall out," he retorted. "Of course, all of those bitches carry the variety pack."

Belle shook her head. "I wasn't nervous when I first agreed to this luncheon. But now, I'm starting to feel uneasy." She pulled on a neutral linen skirt, slipped off the robe, put on the bra and then topped everything off with a flowing red layered top.

Gold closed his eyes. "_You_ will be able to handle them. Remember they're more afraid of you than you are of them and they hate each other much more than they hate you," he said to her quietly. "You, be your real self. Nice, but strong."

"Thanks, dear. I guess I can always pick up and leave if it gets too ugly." She was adding the jewelry he had bought for her and selected a belt.

He'd leaned over to reach into his wallet on the nightstand and then handed her three hundred dollars.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know for sure if Milah will pick up your tab. I just want you to have lunch money. Feel free to keep the change," he told her.

"This seems a lot," she told him, pocketing the cash reluctantly.

"I've seen these women drop four figures on a meal, especially with the alcohol they imbibe." He took her by her arms and looked deeply into her eyes. "You just remember not to let them push you around. You have my trust, my affection, my respect."

"Well," Belle took a deep breath and laid her hand on his chest, dropping it slowly down. She gave him her quiet smile, "And I guess, if all else fails, I can remind them that you're in my bed now. That'll trump anything else they can put on the table."

He had to laugh at that, "Using me again? I don't think I'm quite the prize you think I am." He paused, "And Belle, I. . . I. . . "

"Darling?" she was concerned. He seemed unsure of himself.

"I need to chat with someone from the national media about an upcoming deal I have. I will be putting on a suit and meeting the interviewer at the affiliate this afternoon. I have a 2:00 time slot confirmed."

"You don't seem happy about it," Belle told him.

"I'm not. I hate the media. With few and far between exceptions, they have always screwed me over. But it has to be done. It's easier for me to talk to one than to a whole bunch of them."

"Do you know who you'll be talking with?"

"Yeah, I contacted her. She's a national anchor who's flying up from Atlanta to talk with me. Mallie Scentz."

"Whoa, she's a coyote," Belle observed.

"Exactly. If I can handle her, everyone else will be easy. She's chomping at the bit because she's got an exclusive. And this is business news, not the entertainment crap she normally does. She'll actually owe me after this as it could give her career a boost."

"_You_ will do fine," Belle encouraged him and she gave him a quick kiss before leaving out. "Remember she's more afraid of you than you are of her."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is. Your money scares everyone."

He considered, "Yeah, I guess it does. Everyone except you." He thought a moment, "And maybe Emma."

After she had left, Gold grabbed his shower and dressed in his usual casual jeans and tee. When the white cat came out to confront him, he reached up on the dresser and pulled off a sealed plastic bag.

"I know it's not food, but the store people assured me that you'd love it." He opened the packet and dangled the stuffed mouse shape in front of the cat. She didn't move. He moved it back and forth in front of her. She looked at him, not the 'mouse.' "Come on," he urged her. "It's stuffed with catmint. It's supposed to make you a complete bampot."

The cat just looked at him.

"All right, all right," he left the mouse in front of her and headed on out. "I don't know if there's too much else I can do for your highness but I'll keep working on it."

000000OOOOOO000000

Gold followed his usual morning routine. He then walked down Patton and went into an upscale barber shop to get his hair and beard trimmed up. He walked back up the hill to his apartment and stopped for an early lunch at Stada where he ordered the penne Bolognese. He thought of Belle. He hoped she was doing all right. He wished he could be there. _Briefly he thought of 'dropping in' on the luncheon, but knew that couldn't possibly work, for so many reasons. He would have to have faith that his Belle could handle it. . . uh. . . handle them._

Ooooo00000ooooO

The restaurant was dark and very, very upscale. So far, it was just Milah sitting at the table. She had dressed in a slinky, low-cut, super-short, form-fitting bright blue dress for the luncheon. She gave Belle a big smile as she saw her come into the restaurant. Milah was drinking an IPA.

"Belle, darling," she stood and held out her arms to give Belle a hug. "Don't you look lovely. Of course, you always look lovely. Thank you so much for coming. I wanted to thank you again for being so nice to me."

"Milah, I've got to say, you're very different from what I expected," Belle admitted honestly. The waiter asked for her drink order and she requested water.

"No, not really. I keep telling you, I'm vain, shallow and selfish. I'm sure Bobby told you what Killian and I would like him to do."

"The lump sum settlement? Yes. He's told me he's going to approve that. You'll keep one of the houses and he'll continue doing some of your investments?"

"Yes, Bobby's people send me a statement at least once a month and there are some on-line things we can check any time. Killian is totally on top of 'em."

"So Killian's proposed," Belle said conversationally.

"It's a dream come true. He and Bobby have been the only two men I've ever met that didn't try to feel me up on the first date. Neither one ever called me a 'dumb cunt.' And both of them could tell me the color of my eyes after our first date."

"That's your criteria for considering a guy for marriage?" Belle asked (slightly appalled).

"Absolutely. They're both nice guys. . . usually. They're great in the sack and both have some skills for making money, although I don't think Killian will ever catch up on how Bobby's done with that," Milah took another drink. "We're going to announce the upcoming wedding on tomorrow night's show. I was in doing last minute re-filming this morning and probably will have to go back again tonight, but that's showbiz."

"Then this is what you want?"

"Yes, it's so refreshing. Everyone's been telling me that Killian was just after my money and now, he's totally on board with the pre-nup Bobby is having drawn up."

"Wonderful," Belle was beginning to think this might actually turn out to be a pleasant luncheon, if a bit strange.

Milah looked up, "Oh, it's Cora. That's Regina's mother." She leaned over to Belle and whispered. "I'd advise you to get some alcohol into yourself as soon as possible."

Belle turned to greet the woman who'd been by her shop looking for Gold not long ago. Expensively dressed, well preserved. She snapped her fingers to get the waiter's attention. "Wine list," she ordered. "Milah," she greeted the other woman shortly.

"Mrs. Mills, am I remembering correctly? I'm Belle French," Belle said, rising, and holding out her hand. _This is the South, we rise for our elders._

"Why yes. You must be the little fluff that Bobby is currently entertaining himself with. I recognize you from the book store." Cora ignored her hand and sat down. "I should have suspected you were trying to shield him from me but I didn't think he'd go for your type. He usually likes attractive, sophisticated women." Cora perused the wine list the waiter had given her. "Give me a glass of the Silver Oak Cabernet," she ordered the most expensive one on the list.

Belle was considering her response when, unexpectedly, Milah came to her defense, "Oh I don't know that," Milah spoke up. "He married me, after all, and I was a teenage barfly." Milah also ordered a second beer.

"His tastes changed," Cora was insistent.

"Well maybe they changed again," Milah looked right at Cora.

Cora narrowed her eyes, "Maybe." She leaned back in her chair and began again, "I hear you're getting married Milah. You're actually giving up that plum alimony and, lord knows, how many houses did he set aside for you? Whatever are you thinking?"

Belle decided she would give Milah some support, "I believe she's in love."

Cora snorted. "Love is weakness. Girls, I've lived longer than both of you. . . "

Belle heard Milah under her breath murmur, "together," but Cora didn't hear her.

Cora continued, "And I can tell you, men are not to be trusted. Get what you can out of them and move on. There are always other men out there."

"You would know," Belle heard Milah's whispered murmur again.

"Now, where is my daughter? I only stayed on so I could connect with her. She's always so busy nowadays and I have the hardest time tracking her down."

"She's supposed to be coming, Cora," Milah said welcoming the waiter returning with the drinks. "The last time I saw her was Sunday morning breakfast."

Belle was surprised. "Really? You haven't heard from her or anything?" she was a bit concerned.

"Oh she's fine," Milah assured her. "She hooked up with that big, young detective and I guess she's been getting her spokes greased ever since. I know she swung by her room late yesterday and picked up some clothes but then went off again."

"Did I hear you say detective?" Cora did not approve. "As in police detective? They don't make any money!"

"Well I don't know that she plans to marry the guy, Cora. She's probably just having a good time with him," Milah explained.

Belle looked up as another woman came into the restaurant. She barely recognized the stiff, immaculately groomed and manicured attorney, so changed she was in her appearance. Her hair had been pulled back and she was dressed very casually, wearing blue jeans and boots. Regina saw them and immediately came over. She seemed relaxed and at ease.

"Mother dearest. You look gorgeous as always." Regina leaned down and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You look frightful. What are you wearing? blue jeans and dirty boots! And you smell! Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

"I've been riding horses, Mother," Regina explained, sitting down. "I met the nicest young man and he has a small horse farm out toward Weaverville. He invited me out to do some riding. I spent the night last night and this morning I was out exercising a couple of his horses. I lost track of the time and just barely made it back here in time."

"Well, I hope you don't plan for anything serious to develop with this young man!" Cora began. "He's just a police detective!"

"Mother, I just met the man," Regina protested, then added. "He's very nice and we hit it off."

"Well, you keep in mind how much effort and money it was to send you to Stanford pre-law program and then to Harvard law. You don't want to throw it all away on some backwater police officer."

Belle saw Regina closed her eyes and bite her lip. _Poor thing. _

Thank god the waiter came with the lunch menus.

He asked Regina for her drink order. She ordered the Chimay Trappist, a Belgian beer. Cora looked at her in disgust.

After the waiter left, she began again. "Dear, you're not drinking beer, are you?"

"I had a couple with Daniel and he told me to stick with local beers or Belgian beers. They're very nice, Mother. This town is known for its beers"

"But a beer makes you look so. . . so. . . low class."

"It certainly does," Milah agreed with Cora and took a swig from the bottle she was working on. "Belle, girl, I'm telling you, you probably want to get wine or beer. This group starts to get ugly after a while."

"Maybe I will," Belle said.

Cora had turned her attention to the appetizer menu. "What the hell are fried green tomatoes?" she asked.

"Oh, Bae had some with his father. He said they were excellent," Milah shared.

The waiter had returned with Regina's beer. He asked the group if they wanted to order appetizers.

"I'll have the calamari," Cora said.

"Oooh, crab cakes," Milah said.

"Mussels," Regina ordered.

Belle had looked over the menu. She didn't want to make being a vegetarian an issue. She felt like this group would fall on her like the wives of Dracula. "Fried green tomatoes, please. And a glass of prosecco."

The appetizers gave the group a small break in the carping. Then Cora began again, "Miss French, is it? And just how did you meet Bobby Spinner?"

"He came by my shop for coffee early one morning. He became a regular."

"How delightful. Take you long to get him into your bed?"

Belle was astonished at the effrontery of the question. "Bobby and I got to know each other," she said evasively.

Again Milah jumped in, "I'm sure he put the moves on her, Cora, but you know how he is. He never just pounces on a girl. He woos them."

"Well, he certainly didn't drag his feet with me," Cora sniped. Belle caught Cora looking at her and managed to keep her face impassive.

"Mother! Are you saying you and Bobby. . . ?" Regina spoke up stunned.

"You and Bobby?" Milah said at the same time.

_Belle was surprised. Had Milah and Regina not known? _

_Obviously not._

"He had legally separated from Milah so was technically available," Cora dismissed them. "I'd actually tried to get the man in bed before then, but he'd always turned me down. Some crap about 'trying to work on his marriage.' Milah, you were an idiot to let that man catch you in bed with Killian. He was actually faithful to you up until the separation."

"Well, that was his decision. I had started ditching him at least ten years before then," Milah told the older woman, scraping up the last bit of her crab cake and washing it down with her beer.

Thankfully, the waiter came at that moment and took their meal orders: Scottish salmon for Cora, the tiffen box for Regina, the J-Dogg burger for Milah and their special grilled cheese for Belle. Each of the women ordered another drink to go with their meal.

As soon as the waiter departed, Cora continued lecturing Milah, "You should have hired someone, gotten him drunk. . . that wouldn't have been hard, and caught him in a compromising position. You could have gotten half his fortune."

"Well, I never said I was smart. Not like Belle here. She's brilliant. I think he might actually like her for her brains," Milah said.

_Oh shoot,_ Belle felt like she might now be the target again.

"Not really. I just have a library science degree."

"Oh god, you're a librarian!" it was Regina speaking. "Tell me, do you pull your hair back and put on some glasses and take him to task for having late charges?"

"Do you put on a dowdy outfit and do a striptease revealing slutty underwear?" asked Milah.

"Do you just give him a blow job underneath the circulation desk?" this was from Cora.

"No, no and oh, no," Belle answered.

"Then what do you do?" asked Milah.

"We really haven't got into any role playing," Belle responded.

"Then what do you do?" Cora asked her directly.

"Hey, maybe she don't want to talk about it. Some people think that their sex lives are private," Regina spoke up.

The three women paused, looked at each other and all burst into laughter.

"You've got to tell us, has he done you in a car yet?" This was from Regina.

"How do you know about car sex?" Milah asked.

"How do you think?" Regina responded, smiling sweetly.

"Regina!" both Cora and Milah said in astonishment.

_Well now, Regina's turn. Thank goodness, Bobby had been upfront with her about his previous liaisons._

"A Camry," Regina shared.

"You were doing my husband?" Milah asked.

"It was when the divorce was almost finalized."

"I thought you were my friend?!"

"Well, you didn't want him! And he's really hot," Regina added by way of excusing herself. "Some of those late nights. . .'hammering' out the details of the property distribution. Wow, he got the job done every time."

"I had no idea," Cora told her daughter. "A Camry, huh? My time was in a Volvo. I'm sure my footprints are still on the ceiling of that car."

"Mine was a Chevrolet Camero. It was his pride and joy at the time. He's always been into fancy cars," Milah added.

The three women all turned to look at Belle and waited. Thankfully their food came and Belle was hoping they would forget to press the issue.

No such luck.

"Okay, we know you've done it in a car with him. It's his signature move. What car?" Milah pushed her.

Belle took a deep breath. "His Lamborghini," Belle shared, hoping this wouldn't bite her on the rear.

"Wow, girl! That's classy," Milah said.

"Has he given you any jewelry yet?" Regina asked.

"Just this silver necklace and these little earrings."

"Darling earrings!" Milah shared.

"Thanks, he got them at Walmart."

"Walmart?!" Cora, Regina and Milah all echoed her.

"Yes, he went there to get his yoga clothes and found these. He thought I would like them."

"Did he pick up the necklace at Kohl's?" Cora asked acerbically.

"No, this is sterling silver. He got it at the craft fair." Belle explained.

"So you've just got this one little necklace from the man?" Regina asked, obviously distressed at Belle's lack of aspirations.

"Oh darling, you should be getting so much more from him," advised Cora. "He can drop four, even five figure pieces of jewelry on you without a second thought. You need to be getting everything you can out of the man before he moves on."

"Really Belle," Regina spoke seriously, seconding her mother, "he could give you the building you're living and working in, a new car, and a really nice vacation. You should be grabbing everything you can."

Belle smiled at the two women. "I'm with Bobby because I enjoy his company, not because he's rich and gives me things."

"I don't understand," said Cora.

"Why are you doing him if not for what he can give you?" asked Regina.

"What are your plans for my yummy ex-husband?" asked Milah.

"I like him," Belle answered. "I just want to spend time with him."

Milah finished up her third beer and signaled for a fourth. "You haven't been around when he gets all depressed and mean, have you? He turns into a real son of a bitch when that happens."

"Well, I haven't see that," Belle admitted.

"I have," Cora and Regina both spoke up.

0000000000

"Mallie," Gold greeted the news anchor with a show of enthusiasm.

"Gold," she said to him. "I was so flattered that you contacted me. Let's talk. I want to go over some preliminary questions."

He had met the reporter at the local affiliate. She had flown up from Atlanta, had called ahead and gotten an interview room and, after grilling the team of camera people and lighting people had made a selection for a support crew.

"How are you doing?" she asked him.

"Fine, and you?"

"I'm great. I was wondering how you were getting along after that nasty divorce?"

"Fine. But Mal, I'm _not_ here to talk about my personal life."

"Of course. You want to stay focused on this big business deal."

"Exactly. I'm so glad you can appreciate that."

"Well, they're going to run you through a little makeup – you understand, so you look as scrumptious on the camera as you do in person."

Gold knew the routine and subjected himself to the rituals needed to make him camera ready. Mallie had a comfortable chair set up for him and made idle chatter, allowing him to settle in.

She was a statuesque blonde, dressed in a tight sheath and wearing black patent spike heels. She stopped to refresh her lipstick right before the camera was to begin rolling, slathering on a thick layer of gloss and then putting her finger into her mouth to remove any gloss that might get on her teeth.

"I'm here with Mr. Robert Spinner, CEO of Rumplestiltskin International Incorporated. His company has recently made an exciting, important acquisition and he has graciously agreed to share some of the details. Mr. Spinner, tell us about this acquisition."

"We are very excited about this venture. It's a very small company, known as Cricket. They are known for making disposable flashlights with built-in batteries. A little more than a year ago they came to me with an idea for a new battery. Rumii did some preliminary inquiries and agreed to fund their research."

"And what came out of this research?" Mallie leaned in.

"An extraordinary battery. We are calling it the 'forever battery.' It has a very lengthy lifespan."

"A battery that lasts forever?" Mallie asked him.

"As I understand it, that would violate the laws of physics," Gold gave her a pleasant smile at that. "You'd have to talk to one of their people, but this battery recharges through a variety of venues and while it's not actually forever, it does last for a very, very long time."

"So what applications does it have?"

"The first thing I suggested was a new cell phone battery." He pulled out his own phone. "You have to recharge your phone often?" he asked her.

"At least once a day, sometimes twice," she admitted.

"I charged this phone more than five weeks ago. I still have half the battery charged."

"Holy fuck!" Mallie winced and turned to the camera signaling him to quit recording.

"We'll have to shoot that again. Sorry," Mallie apologized to everyone. "You are shitting me?" she had turned back to Gold.

Gold shook his head.

"I knew it was big but a smart phone battery that lasts . . . what? ten weeks?"

Gold shrugged.

They reshot the segment

Mallie continued from the mis-speak. "How exciting. Is it expensive?" she asked.

"Right now, a bit, but with the resources of Rumii behind it, we can mass produce the batteries and we'll bring the cost down so that it becomes reasonable for everyone."

"Besides cell phones, what other directions are you going with this battery?" she asked him.

"That's pretty open right now. I've suggested little things like camera batteries, computer batteries, watch batteries and, of course, flash lights. The medical field has expressed an interest in these batteries for biometric devices, like pacemakers. The military has expressed an interest for a number of their projects. And we're also talking with a car manufacturer known for their hybrid vehicles but that is still in the very early stages there."

"So when will this be officially announced?"

"Next Monday is the plan. This will be a new subsidiary and the company's name will be announced at that time."

"This is so amazing. Now," Mallie shifted in her seat. "Mr. Spinner, you and I got to know each other when you were going through a very difficult, contentious divorce a while ago. On a personal note, there are rumors that you are about to go off the Most Eligible Bachelors' list. What are you willing to share about that?"

_Once a sensationalist reporter, always a sensationalist reporter. This was exactly where he hadn't wanted to go._

"I am fortunate enough to be seeing a very special lady. We haven't talked about the direction we're going." He didn't want to say anything else.

"Of course. Well good luck with the battery, but it doesn't sound like you'll be needing it." She looked at the camera. "This is Malinda F. Scentz. Thanks everybody. Have your best day." She gave a big smile directly at the camera.

The camera went off. The camera man and lighting man immediately ran over to Gold. "Can we see your phone, sir?"

He handed it over.

"This is just an ordinary smart phone. It's the battery that makes it special?" the cameraman asked.

"Absolutely."

"Wow, this is amazing."

"I thought so when they brought the flashlight to me," he agreed.

Mallie primped again once off camera. "This is a pretty incredible story. I'll get the report onto the wires in time for the six o'clock news. You're going to be slammed by requests for interviews from everyone. They're all going to want a piece of you. You know that."

"I'm afraid of that. That's why I went with a preliminary announcement and will do the follow-up Monday. I'm not talking to anyone between now and then."

"Why'd you contact me?" She had placed her hand on his knee.

"Because I wanted you to owe me a favor," he answered her, slightly shifting to pull away from her hand. "I don't have anything in mind right now, but eventually something will come up."

"I'm sure it will. Right now, I'm happy to owe you. This will be a major career boost for me. I'd kiss you if you'd like." It was pretty clear she'd would do more for him. . . if he'd like.

"There really is a special lady in my life right now," he explained, pulling back, standing and exiting.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Belle was on her third glass of prosecco. She had managed to make it through the meal listening to the other three women carp and snipe at each other, occasionally finding herself the target. The worst relationship was clearly between Cora and her daughter. Belle felt sorry for Regina after having just one meal with Cora, the old biddy. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like growing up with the soul-sucking, impossible woman. What was Cora's problem?

Now Milah, bless her heart, she was basically just trailer trash come into money. She was nice enough but there wasn't a lot to work with.

"You dress so strangely, dear." Cora was well into her wine. "Where do you find these things?"

"Oh, there are a lot of lovely little shops right here in town. There are no end of vintage shops. Then there are places like Papillon, The Open Door, Twist, my favorite is Ad Lib. I shop there a lot and find the most unique little pieces."

"Well, unique is one word for them," Cora was clearly disapproving. She finished off her third drink and signaled for a fourth.

"Have you ever thought of using more makeup?" Milah asked her.

"Yeah, you've got that hippie chick thing going and you really could be pretty if you put on some shadow and lipstick and stuff. You know Bobby prefers his women well made up," Regina told her. "You should get some of Milah's stuff. It's really good stuff."

"Thank you," Belle told her.

"I like how you dress," Milah told her. "I got a couple of those skirts."

"You have no taste in clothing, Milah, dear," Cora said as if she was being nice. "You still dress like a barfly."

"Well, you dress like you've got a big stick up your ass," Milah shot back. "I can't believe Bobby ever put his dingus in you. He must have been hyped up on pain pills and antidepressants. That combo always did cloud his judgment."

"He was cold sober when he turned to me," Cora spit out. "You had just frozen than fine piece of tail out of your bedroom. I was just there to pick it up."

"You'd been panting after his ass for a couple of years, you old bitch. You think I didn't know," Milah had raised her voice.

"Well so what? Why would you have cared? You were whoring around with any and every trouser snake in the woods."

"Mother," Regina tried to caution her increasingly loud mother.

"Oh Regina, you were slobbering after the man also. I'm just surprised you had the balls to go after him. My opinion of you has actually improved. I'm just hoping you don't get crazy about this stable boy you've hooked up with and make a rash decision."

"Mother, I just met the man. I'm not picking out china patterns,"

"Well you just need to watch it," Cora spoke sharply.

Belle couldn't stand it, "Ms. Mills, don't you want your daughter to be happy? Isn't that the most important thing?"

Cora sat stunned. She was clearly trying to pull herself together and express herself coherently. She actually sputtered when she finally began speaking, "Are you barking mad? Happiness comes from having enough food on the table and not having to lick anybody's boots. What do you know about happiness? - You haven't had enough sense to get a zirconia from Bobby!"

"Maybe she's planning on settling for a simple gold ring," Milah suggested.

"She thinks she's going to marry the man?! Hah!" Cora turned to Belle, "You're hardly enough to keep a man of his experience and tastes amused for more than a couple of weeks. You're drab, unfashionable, and too unsophisticated for someone like him."

Belle had had enough. She looked Cora in the eyes. "I'm with the man because I like him, not because I'm expecting a proposal, or because he can give me things, or even for the sex. And right now that seems to be enough to keep his attention."

Cora narrowed her eyes and called Belle, "a stupid, stupid girl." Cora stood, tossed a couple of hundreds on the table and stomped out.

Milah finished off her fourth beer. "Well, that was fun. I can't tell you how nice it was to have you here."

"It's been real," Belle said and she signaled the waiter over to get her own bill. "Regina, it's so nice seeing you again."

"You too," Regina said. "I'm going back to Daniel's." She chugged her remaining beer. "Belle, be careful with Bobby. You seem to be a nice girl but the man can be a snake," and she also dropped a couple of hundreds on the table.

Belle and Milah were left together at the table.

"Welcome to Gold's world, Belle," Milah told her. "Be sure he's worth it before you consider joining us." Milah also dropped a couple of hundreds on the table and left.

Belle waited for the bill and paid the amount with a twenty percent tip. She called Gold.

"Bobby, I need a ride. I've had too much to drink."

"I'll be there within twenty minutes. Will you be at the restaurant?

"At Yarn Paradise. Just give me a call." Belle managed to walk out without staggering and walked the half block to the prestige yarn shop.

It was not quite twenty minutes before Belle got a call that Gold was turning onto Crescent. She left the yarn shop and stood out waiting for the distinctive Lamborghini. He slowed up and she hopped in.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in a suit since that first week. I forgot how good you look in one."

Gold recognized that she was unquestionably tipsy; he remembered the last time she drank she had become rather amorous. "I thought you said I reminded you of your father when I wore a suit."

She leaned over and kissed him on the ear, her sweet breath softly warming him. "I guess I was wrong."

He swallowed nervously. "Belle, where would you like me to take you?"

"The apartment?" she suggested, her hand tracked over his chest.

"Very tempting. How about I take you out for some coffee? I know you can get some at the shop but I also think there's a Panera just down the road here. We'll see how you feel about heading back to the apartment in an hour or so."

Belle pouted but sat back in the car seat. She began moving her skirt up her legs, bringing it to her knees, her thighs. She opened and closed her thighs.

"All of your ex's at the luncheon said you had a thing for car sex."

He glanced at her very pretty pale thighs. "I guess I do, but now is hardly the time or place."

"How could you ever sleep with that horrible woman?"

He considered. _Which one?_

"That Cora Mills. She was just a bitch, treated her daughter horribly, insulted both me and Milah and didn't exactly say nice things about you," Belle explained.

"Oh," he commented. "She was a lot nicer when she wanted something." He drove in silence for a while. "And at that time, I think I was hopped up on pain pills and antidepressants."

Belle got less loopy after her third latte. Against Belle's protests _she was sober enough to drive the Saturn back and besides it needed gas G_old drove her back to the apartment. It was after six by the time they pulled into the parking lot. He walked her across the street and she checked in at the bookstore. Ruby assured her that it had been a quiet day and she could handle the final hour of business and close up.

Gold escorted Belle to the elevator and they rode up in silence.

Belle insisted she wasn't hungry, in fact she thought that she would never want to eat again after her huge lunch and all the coffee. Gold turned on the news and fixed himself a sandwich.

"Oh, I may be on the news," he mentioned to Belle. "I made a little announcement."

Belle watched the national news and sure enough, Gold was one of the lead off stories.

She watched the interview open-mouthed. "Holy cow! So that's why I've never seen you charge your phone! And that was that call to the Japanese guy – you were talking about putting this battery into a car! Good lord! How much money is this going to make?"

"Conservatively, I estimate that I may very well double my net worth," he told her. "Everyone is going to want this battery."

"But you're already worth a fazillion dollars!"

"A fazillion, yes, I think that was the last formal accounting. But understand, this battery has so many possible uses that will benefit so many people," he spoke enthusiastically. "I want to send off a percentage into some of these impoverished countries where people don't have ready sources of energy. These will help pump well water, power stoves to cook food properly, power lights, power fans to cool places off and heaters to . . . heat places up. It will improve the lives of so many people."

Belle smiled at him. "You don't have to sell me on it. I can already begin to see the possibilities. This is amazing."

He'd found himself sitting by her on the sofa. "Maybe, maybe with this, people won't still think I'm a ruthless monster, a ravening predatory beast who destroys the lives of people, an evil, worthless creature."

"I don't think that," she told him.

"Ah, but I am an arrogant control-freak who manipulates you and pushes you into sex when you might not want it."

"I'm learning to say no." Belle began to kiss him on the jaw line. She sat back a moment. "Those women told me I should be getting expensive jewelry from you. They didn't believe me when I said I just liked being with you and didn't expect anything."

Gold was still. "I would give you anything you wanted, you know that, Belle." He made eye contact with her. "I don't want this to end. I'm so afraid something will happen. That I'll be left with an empty heart and a damn battery that lasts forever."

Belle leaned in and began to gently caress him. "I don't plan to leave you unless you throw me out."

000ooo000ooo000ooo000

Gold sat on the roof garden with the black cat. Still had four cigarettes of his original ten for the day left. Still struggling to get less than six a day.

_This vacation would be up too soon. He needed to consider what options he and Belle had. He was pretty sure she wouldn't be willing to close up her shop here in Asheville and move to New York with him. For himself, he was pulling away from so much of the business and letting Bae step into the job, but he did want to manage this battery business. He thought a moment. He could probably do that from here in Asheville. Yeah. They had internet here in Asheville. They had phones here in Asheville. _

**A.N. Thanks to my amazing reviewers: Leafena, thedoctorsgirl42, The Prince's Phoenix, cheesyteal'c, Anonymous Nerd Girl, ctdg, Just 2 Dream of You, RaFire, AnEloquentFacade, narciscia (Guest) (Gold is not entirely a nice guy but he's growing and changing), Lattelady, MyraValhallah, Samzi, CharmedRumbelle, Aletta-Feather, Girlyemma96 and DruidKitty**.

_Next: An old friend comes to town_

_Girls' Night In_

_Gold and Belle have a pleasant evening_


	31. Turn Me On'

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

'**Turn Me On'**

**CHAPTER 31**

He began by being very gentle with her, allowing her to quietly asleep while he began his slow administrations.

He enjoyed this challenge, that of taking the quiescent woman and slowly, sensitively, bringing her to fruition. She had begun to stir and murmur in her sleep, thrashing as he would bring her close to satisfaction. He had stilled her and then, started again, softly, persistently. He led his sleeping beauty again on the path to pleasure, stopping just before she slipped over the precipice. He had used his tongue, lightly, flicking it back and forth over the crux of her femininity, all the while massaging the delicate area that surrounded the engorged nub. He heard her begin to pant and he kept up the stimulation. He felt her legs stiffen and tension build and he kept up the stimulation. He felt her shift, lifting herself to him and then she screamed. He continued to massage and continued to use his tongue, finding himself well rewarded with a gush of sweet nectar as she spasmed repeatedly, her gasps and her spasms slowly lessening.

She began to stir and was able to welcome him, flicking her eyes opened and definitely opening her arms to him when he mounted her (condom prepped) and he began to drive into her, enjoying how quickly she was ready, more than ready, for him, taking his entire length in one thrust. He pulled her legs up around his waist, tilting her hips up so that he would grind against her clit and then he entwined his fingers with hers, stretching her arms out from her body so that she should feel pinioned to the bed. He could feel her struggle against him, knowing that she was trying to put her arms around him, but enjoying the sense of control, of power, that he always fed on. Her body, already receptive to him, again began to fragment and he felt her coming for him again, her sweet channel clenching and unclenching around him, her eyes fluttering. She was gasping for air and, at the point that he surged into her releasing himself, she went limp and still.

"Belle!" he shook her. "Belle, oh my god! Have I hurt you?! Belle!" _Had he hurt her?!_

Her eyes slowly opened. "Bobby?" she seemed confused.

"Belle, please, oh god, are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"No, darling. I. . . just. . . passed out. I guess the combination of morning low blood sugar and a really, really great orgasm." She was slowly returning to normal breathing.

"You scared me," his brown eyes were full of concern. "I don't ever want to hurt you."

"You didn't. But I'm still a bit wobbly," she managed to bring her arms up around him and he could feel her trembling and struggling to regain her senses.

He then propped himself up to watch her pull herself together.

"I was going to ask you which was better," he said. "Breakfast in bed or this?"

She was fast regaining her wits and gave a low laugh, "Both have a great deal to recommend them," she told him and managed to begin to stretch out. "Both are very satisfying, refreshing and, ultimately, exhilarating." She finished stretching, "Hard to decide."

Belle then shook herself and sat up, clearing her head, breathing deeply, "I'll want to get something here to eat before I go down stairs." She slipped off the bed and began to head toward the bathroom. "Oh yeah," she called back, "It's Girl's Night In. Milah will be here. You planning on being here or will you be hanging with Jefferson?"

"Not sure. Leaning towards Jefferson's," he told her. "But it's also my apartment and I don't think I should feel that I have to hide from the woman."

Concerned about her, Gold made another attempt at fixing her a little breakfast, another scrambled egg (fixed according to Belle's instructions) and some nicely browned and buttered toast. He squeezed some orange juice and, this time, tasted it before putting it on the table for her.

Belle gratefully sat down and ate the food while he took over her usual morning chores, watering the plants and feeding the cats. The White Cat did not make an appearance for him.

Belle finished the food and got up to leave. Gold stopped her. "You sure you're all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you, breakfast was very thoughtful," she gave Gold a quick kiss and in a soft voice she shared with him, "I've read about _La Petite Mort_ but I didn't know for sure if it was real and certainly never thought I would experience it. I guess you should feel proud of yourself," she gave him another quick kiss, scooped up Darwin and went on downstairs.

He wasn't so sure. _I'd like to think I was so good I could make you pass out during an orgasm, but . . . _he shook his head _it was probably low blood sugar like you'd said to begin with. _

When he came out from his shower, The Cat was waiting for him. He had already noted that the catmint mouse had disappeared. Susie looked at him, walked over to him uttering a distinctive satisfied mix of a meow and a purr. He cautiously patted her.

"I guess I'm supposed to bring you more gifts. Cat, you are more demanding than any other female I've ever been involved with," he told her. "You want petting, you want gifts, you want . . . _everything. _I could have stayed with Cora and got this kind of relationship." He rubbed her behind the ears and she seemed momentarily satisfied. She walked off with her tail in a characteristic question mark, apparently happy. . . for the moment.

He sighed and went on down stairs, now following his very comfortable, very familiar Wednesday morning routine. Excellent coffee, experimental scone (gooseberry today), Ruby's apron tragedy (large eyed clowns doing somersaults, handstands, leapfrogs and sundry physical stunts) and then his walk, yoga, smoothie and lunch selection (from The Black Bird).

Belle gave him a call and asked if he would add another lunch to his usual total.

When, much later that morning, he arrived back at the bookstore, he couldn't miss the slight commotion. He could see Wendy sitting in the café, along with Ruby and a number of other patrons. They were all surrounding a table. He couldn't see what or who might be at the table. He saw Belle across the store at the register and glanced pointedly at the café table.

Belle gave him a smile and signaled him over. When he came over to her, she whispered, "It's Ariel. She always comes in early and crashes with me. She came down to see me, in a sorta disguise, but people saw through it anyway. She's signing autographs.

Gold asked her, holding up the lunches, "Do I take these over to the café or do I leave them with you here at the register?"

"Café," she told him. "And I'll join you outside in a moment," she told him.

Gold deposited the extra lunches behind the counter in the café and took his and Belle's outside. He sat under a fan and set out his food and began to set out Belle's. She would bring them Italian sodas from the cafe. He watched. He always enjoyed watching Belle make payment to her own store, putting the money in the till, for his and her drinks, taking it from her own purse. She was scrupulously honest and wouldn't even think of cheating herself. She came out and sat by him.

"Have I told you how much I appreciate you bringing lunch to us," Belle began.

"Have I told you how much I enjoy bringing lunch to you," he told her. "And having lunch with you. . . and doing anything with you." His eyes were dark and his smile warm. He leaned in and took her hand in his.

"No you haven't," Belle said and covered his hand with hers. "But I've noticed that you tend to be more of a man of action than of words." Belle thought a moment, "Unless of course there is something you want and then you can talk the birds out of the trees," she looked at him and added, "or the panties off of a librarian."

Gold managed to look innocent, _who me?_ He protested, "You, madame, take away my sense of propriety and push me to the limits of my self-control."

"So it's my fault?" she asked, recognizing the manipulation, suave and clever as it might be.

"Absolutely. I was perfectly fine living a solitary, celibate life, when you sashay through, offering me coffee, wearing your shy, modest attire, with your. . . your granny panties, and your fresh-washed, unmade-up face. And then you up the ante by _not_ trying to put your hand down my pants on our first outing, although I admit that when you licked my ear that time I nearly lost it. How's a man supposed to resist those types of feminine wiles? I'm helpless against you."

"_You_ are helpless against _me_?! You are the most seductive man I've ever met!" Belle was enjoying herself. Listening to the man trying to shift responsibility was most interesting. "You're smooth and clever and you end up making me feel like it was my idea! You know very well that you overwhelm me with all your experience and your finesse."

"I've not been with all that many women!" he protested.

"More women than I've been with men."

He sat a moment. "But I wish there had only been you and we could have learned together . . . from each other," he spoke quietly, sweetly, sounding ever so sincere.

Belle closed her eyes. "Oh my, you are sooo good. I don't stand a chance."

"Then you will continue to succumb to me and my wicked talents?" he was giving her his devastating half-smile.

"Perhaps, but I am going to try to resist."

"But why?" _Again dripping with innocence_.

"I think it will be more fun that way," she told him.

This made Gold look up abruptly. "I will have my hands full with you, won't I?"

"It's good for you," Belle told him.

The two sat eating, smiling at each other. He basked in her glittering smile. It always seemed brighter around her, as if she glowed, like a candle in the night, like a light in a sea of darkness. He always felt so much more alive in her presence.

For her part, Belle thought that he was such an intense enigmatic man. Intelligent, clever, but still something dark within him, something unstable, something unpredictable. He never seemed to feel good enough, smart enough, successful enough.

He still felt like he was a monster.

They finished the meal in silence, just looking at each other and smiling.

A shadow fell over them and they both broke their reverie and looked up.

"Ariel!" Belle said.

"I'd wanted to see you first, but you see how that worked out," the pretty red head bent down and gave Belle a big hug. Ariel pulled a chair over. "I'm praying I'll be able to stay in your apartment like usual. I don't know if I can spend another night in that trailer."

"Yes, of course, in fact, you can have the apartment all to yourself and have some of your crew stay with you."

"But, where will you. . . ?"

"I've got a special deal with the landlord and he's letting me stay in the penthouse," Belle explained.

"Get out!" Ariel looked back and forth between the two sitting at the table and the light dawned. "Really!" she seemed pleased. She leaned towards Belle and pointed at Gold. She asked in a stage whisper, "Is this really hot guy the landlord?"

"Yes it is. Ariel, may I present Mr. Gold. Mr. Gold, this is Ariel."

He stood and took her offered hand. "Miss Ariel."

"Mr. Gold?" Ariel was clearly puzzled. "Mr. Gold? If you say so. It's a great pleasure to meet you, sir. You're familiar with my music, I take it?"

"I am. You've had a meteorite rise to fame due, I would add, to your remarkable talent."

"Yeah, and a great deal of luck and a massive amount of help. From people like Belle, from the American Idol voters and from Spin City picking me up as a recording artist," Ariel looked at Gold. "Especially Spin City."

"Ariel," Gold began. "It's apparent you know who I really am."

Ariel had the grace to look embarrassed, "Well, after that introduction I didn't know if Belle knew or not. I know because I have a picture of you enshrined in my trailer with a banner underneath it that proclaims, 'My benefactor.'"

"Miss Ariel, I hope you understand that my company has recouped at least twenty times our initial investment in you and you continue to provide us a most respectable return," Gold told her graciously.

"Well you guys give me so much artistic freedom for my writing, my scheduling, even how much I get to donate to charitable causes. I love you guys," Ariel told him.

"A happy artist is a productive artist," Gold said simply.

"You are the greatest!" Ariel leaned over and gave him a big hug. She turned to Belle, "I'm going to take Wendy out clothes shopping. I hope you can spare her. I'm wanting to try her out as a backup singer and I need to get her proper attire." She waved bye and set off.

Gold seemed embarrassed by the singer's expression of affection.

"You old softie," Belle told him after Ariel had left them.

"That girl is simply an investment," he spoke off-handedly. "She has a remarkable voice and we thought it best that she be allowed to develop naturally. In two, maybe three years, she'll be bringing home Grammys and People's Choice and what other awards are out there and she'll be worth a mint." He stood, "Now, what can I get for Girls' Night In?"

"Are you planning on staying?" Belle asked him, surprised.

"Haven't made up my mind yet."

"Well you're welcome, especially as it is in your apartment. But I certainly understand if you don't want to stay."

"Whether I come or not, I shall provide sustenance. What can I get for everyone to eat?"

"Something spicy?"

He blew her a kiss, "Will do," he promised and set off.

0000oo0000oo0000

_Something spicy? What would that entail? He was a Scotsman. His idea meal was canned haggis and an Irn Bru. He came from a cuisine based on a dare. _

_He needed help._

_Off to Earthfare._

Gold solicited help from their produce people again. They suggested several salsas made with different levels of hot peppers. Several different kinds of chips. Cheese sauces. Bean dips. Quacamole. Nachos. They gave him a recipe for a Layered Mexican Salad. . . and suggested he put out the ingredients for tacos, (including Vidalia onions, lettuce, tomatoes, vegetarian chili and shredded cheese) so that everyone could fix their own. For dessert, he bought the ingredients for Tres Leches cake. He added several kinds of beer, and at the suggestion of the store sommelier (or was he just the beer clerk?), a bubbly light peach flavored wine, a zinfandel and a reisling. He lugged it all back to the apartment. He down-loaded the recipe for Tres Leches cake (maybe he couldn't scramble eggs so well, but he could follow a step-by-step recipe.) In short order, he got the cake in the oven feeling rather proud of himself. He got out some serving bowls and mixed up some of the salsas (using his high-powered blender). He put the liquor into the fridge. He couldn't do anything else until right before the little coven arrived. He opened one of the beers.

He took a long drink. He remembered something from, what was it? the second time he'd spent time with The Girls. He remembered Mary Margaret wishing that he would grow a beard and find true love. He had certainly accomplished the beard part. The True Love? He took another drink. Yes, that had happened too.

_So what was stopping him from telling Belle?_

_Cowardice. _

_Sheer cowardice._

O0oO0oO0oo0Oo0Oo0O

Gold had, against his better judgment, decided to stay for the evening. He had downed another beer early on before any of the women had arrived and had opened a third by the time the women started to come in.

It was quite the full house. Mary Margaret, Ruby, Ashley, Belle (of course), and young Wendy. Ariel had also joined them. Emma came in late, still distracted. And lastly, making an entrance, Milah, accompanied on this visit by Regina, coming in about ten minutes before the show.

Gold stayed behind the counter in the kitchen, putting out the buffet food and managing the liquor. He had soft drinks set aside for the pregnant and the under-aged and just in case there was anyone else who wanted to remain sober.

Emma had briefly joined him.

"Miss Swan, you look like hell," he observed quietly and with concern. Although Emma typically didn't exercise a particularly high level of self-care (often didn't comb her hair, often wore no makeup, often wore clothes that didn't match, etc.), on this evening she was far more scattered than usual. She looked tired and on edge. _His sharp eyes caught a gun tucked under her loose top._

"I feel like shit," she told him. "Been extra busy. Extra worried."

"Are things going all right?" he asked, concerned.

"I think so," she told him. "I just came by for a quick bite and some of your ginger ale."

"No alcohol tonight?" he questioned.

"Got to stay sharp," she told him. She quickly filled and ate a plate of food and chugged a couple of glasses of ginger ale.

"May I ask how it's going with my son?"

"You can ask," she told him.

All right, he would play her game. "How's it going with Bae?"

"We hit it off in the sack, that's for sure, but," Emma looked at him, "that's probably more information than you want to know." She paused, "I like him. He listens. He's nice. He is fun to be with. I mean, I'm sure I could learn to overlook his family ties and maybe, another time and place, we might have something together. But here, right now, I don't know."

"Well you never know how things will work out," Gold smiled at her.

"We'll see," she gave him a quick hug and slipped out of the party early.

He turned his attention to his ex-wife. Milah had again adopted the 'Asheville style' in her attire, a flowing top and long skirt with casual jewelry and dangling earrings. It didn't look badly on her, but then she always had been an attractive woman. . . on the outside. Milah was offering hugs all around. She hadn't noticed his presence.

Milah greeted Belle first. "Belle, it's wonderful to see you again. Especially after that luncheon. I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me again. Cora certainly packs a punch."

Belle had noticed Regina. As much as she hadn't liked the woman's mother, she didn't want to say anything bad about Cora. She was glad the uptight attorney had come. She was still dressed in blue jeans and boots and looked really relaxed. Looked like she was having a good time with the detective. She gave Regina a bright smile. Regina gave her a hesitant smile back.

Then Regina saw Gold and gravitated towards him.

"You got my draft on the settlement?" she asked him.

"I did, made some changes and I've sent it back. It should be waiting for you. How's the pre-nup coming?"

"A bit slower but it should be done by tomorrow. I'm trying to get Milah not to give up any of the money or the house. She's willing to give Killian half but I knew you would stroke and pull back on the settlement if that's how the pre-nup read."

"Got that right," he confirmed. "I don't want that bastard to get a centime."

"I should be able to get that written up. The trick will be to get Milah to agree to it."

"She'll agree to it," Gold told her.

"I don't know," Regina shook her head, "She doesn't automatically do what you tell her to anymore."

Gold glared at her. "She'll sign it if she knows what's good for her. I don't have to offer her anything and I can jerk the rug right out from under her if she's too troublesome."

Regina picked up one of the nacho chips and dipped it into the cheese sauce. "Now, with that attitude, how could she have ever thought you were a dictatorial, controlling prick?" she said to him sweetly

Gold bit his lower lip, "Milah isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. She knows nothing about finances and she makes important decisions with her twat."

Regina shook her head again, "And she wasn't happy being married to you, imagine that. I sure hope you're treating Belle with a lot more respect or you will lose her. Do you know Belle actually stood up to my mother. . . several times."

"She did?"

"Asked my mother if she didn't want me to be happy. I don't think that thought has ever occurred to my mother and it brought her up short. I don't often see my mother speechless."

Gold agreed, "I'm sorry I missed that."

"Of course it didn't last. My mother came back on her with both barrels. Belle just smiled at her and reminded her that you are with her now. Belle's a brave woman, Gold. Nice too. What the hell does she see in you?"

"Hell if I know. I'd think it was my money but she rejects me spending on her at every turn."

"Milah thinks she might be after a ring," suggested Regina.

It took Gold a moment. He was about to comment that she had refused expensive jewelry from him when the meaning of Regina's statement dawned on him. "Marriage?!" Gold was stunned. "I don't know about that. She's pretty clear about keeping her autonomy."

Regina took a drink. "The man is always the last to know," she told him as she turned back to the group.

Gold stood a moment. Was that what Belle was up to? He felt a momentary flash of anger. Was she after his money? All this time, he had thought she liked _him. _Had she known all along who he was? And this was a devious plan. Had Cora or Milah or even Regina put her up to this? He couldn't be sure.

And now that the seed was planted. . .

Milah glanced at the buffet and, of course, she saw him. He looked away.

He could smell her perfume.

"Belle is too good for you," he heard her as she slunk over to him.

"I know," he answered.

Milah returned to the topic of greatest interest to her, "Regina tells me that you're requiring a pre-nup before you go with the settlement. I know you don't care about me. This is to be sure that Killian doesn't walk with any of your money, isn't it?"

"Of course," he agreed.

"I didn't think it was because you had any leftover feelings for me."

He just looked at her.

"Obviously not," she decided. "I suppose Regina told you how well Belle handled Cora at the luncheon. You must have told her about your previous flirtations as Belle didn't seem the least bit fazed when Cora and Regina both spilled their guts about having an affair with you – surprised the crap out of me and both of them. Really, Bobby, mother and daughter?"

"Not at the same time," he defended himself. "They both came on to me and I rejected them more than once."

"Any others hiding in your bed?" Milah asked him. She was leaning in close to him.

"Not really your business, is it?"

"What does she see in you?" Milah asked him the question he'd been asking himself.

"I don't know. I keep telling her I'm a reprehensible villain with no moral center, but she insists that she sees a spark of humanity in me."

Milah looked at him for a moment, shook her head, "No, I don't see it. You're still pretty hot and the money helps a lot, but a nice guy – I don't think so." Milah returned to the group and they settled in to watch her latest homage to herself.

Milah had gone shopping in Asheville, scoping out all the little specialty stores and vintage places. Her big moment was finding a pair of black patent leather Ferragamo pumps in one of the vintage shops, shoes that fit her perfectly. She informed the audience that these could go for $600.00 easily. She got them for $40.00. She had picked up a beaded evening jacket for a mere $100.00 at another store. She had found a variety of dresses and funky hats which she modeled for the audience. Milah had also stumbled into Va Va Voom, a lingerie shop and picked up some "wedding" undergarments. She shared that she had bought a white bustier for under the wedding dress and then, she winked at the audience, a red corset for under her reception dress.

Killian also had some air time. He had taken a tour of the bars of Asheville and then ended up at Bruisin' Ales where he was able to find (and buy) some amazing beers.

Millian (as the press had taken to calling the couple) had ended the show with the announcement that Milah's ex had graciously agreed to having a lump sum settlement laid on to them and they would now be able to actually get married. Milah continued on, saying a series of complimentary things about Gold, the same man she previously spent time making scathing comments about. Several of the women at the gathering turned to glance at Gold who stood stoically by while she blithered on about how absolutely marvelous the man had turned out to be, how she took back every bad thing she had ever said about him.

Milah was obviously very excited and announced that the wedding would be real time the following Wednesday in Dupont Forest at Triple Falls. She noted that this happened to be the location where the movie _The Hunger Games_ was shot. They would be getting a special three o'clock time slot and then replay the wedding in the usual time slot.

Milah ended the show with a special thanks to her new Asheville friends who had welcomed her into their families, taken the time to show her around, taken her to lunch, told her about the best places to shop, the best places to buy beer and given her a ton of suggestions for the wedding venue. Milah and Killian were both beaming, apparently quite the happy couple as the show faded to commercial.

"Lovely show," Belle told her after it was over.

"Thank you. I was afraid it was a bit rushed. We usually have a ton of footage and this was probably the least amount we shot to turn into a show. But I do think it did turn out well."

The women then began praising the food, especially the cake that Gold had put together for them. They were disbelieving when it came to light that he had made the cake.

"Marry that man," Mary Margaret told Belle, licking her fingers.

Gold's eyes flickered over the Belle to watch her reaction. "There are many reasons to consider marrying a man. I'm not sure that being able to bake a cake is one of them."

Ruby spoke up, "Well, it doesn't count against him."

"Belle, what are you looking for in a man?" Milah asked her.

Belle didn't answer right away. "Honesty. I guess that would be most important. I've got to feel I can trust the man. I'd want him to be compatible and believe in the core things I believe in; that the most important things in life aren't things. Relationships, health, pursuing your dreams, honoring the sanctity of the earth and the environment, those things are what will sustain you. Happiness comes from within. And you are responsible for your own self and your decisions."

_She didn't sound like a gold-digger, like anyone following a Machiavellian plan to go after his money, like a uber-clever woman trying to trick him into marriage. She sounded like. . . Belle . . . sweet, generous, kind Belle. If she was trying to marry him for his money, she was very, very, very good at pretending to be something she was not._

"Wow," Milah said. "That is so deep and thoughtful." Milah was obviously impressed _not being a deep thinker herself._

0000000000

"I'll never be that man you described," he told her as they readied for bed.

Belle gave a low laugh, "Which part are you missing?"

"Parts," he corrected her. "Let's see, the honesty, the valuing of relationships with, you know, people, honoring the environment and the happiness-comes-from-within parts," he said. "I'm good with the responsibility for my own actions," he hesitated and then added, "well mostly."

"I thought you'd been working on the honesty part," she told him.

"Yeah. And right now I'm doing all right with it. But I'm afraid the first time something comes up, and it's more expedient for me to lie, I will. I'm afraid, I'll look you in the eye and deny responsibility or twist words so that I'm not _technically_ lying – that's one of the things I do well."

"I guess we'll have to deal with that when it happens," she replied and then hesitated. "Before this evening goes any further, I need to make a little confession."

"What?" by force of habit, he was immediately suspicious.

"I managed to get worked in to see my doctor and she gave me a prescription. She told me that after I'd taken the medication for seven days, that I would be . . . protected . . ." Belle looked at him and blushed.

Gold stood still a moment, not wanting to push the matter. He finally spoke softly. "Are you telling me that that you're on the Pill?"

"Uh huh. I thought I had to wait until my. . . my. . . my period," Belle still found it hard to talk to the man about this matter, "started, but she told me that was my mother's Pill. This one is different and I could go ahead and start taking it and we'd be ok after seven days. This is Day Eight, so we're good to go." She looked up at him but then dropped her eyes again.

"Belle, thank you," he told her. "I'm. . . I'm. . . flattered. And just so you know, I had myself thoroughly checked out several times when I was Milah, especially after I'd found her with Killian. My last check-up was as recently as three months ago . . . and I haven't been with anyone since. I wanted to be sure I wasn't incubating some disease." He knelt in front of her as she sat on the bed. "This is a serious step in our relationship. I truly appreciate it. I think I can promise you it will make things better, easier. "

"I hope so, I know there's been a couple of times that we got close and almost forgot. . . " Belle added. She came over to him and put her hand on his chest. "You looked really nice tonight. But maybe sometime I can get you back in a suit. I don't think I'd like it every day, but every so often, it makes a nice change."

"I thought you said it made me look like your father," he reminded her, putting his hand over hers.

"Well, I was wrong," she told him.

"You want me to change into a suit now?" he asked, eager to do whatever she might desire, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing her palm.

"Noooo, I do what you to change out of what you're wearing. But do it slowly," she directed.

He looked up sharply at her.

_Had he understood her?_

_She was asking him to strip for her. _

_He could do that._

"Can I have some music?" he asked her, putting one more kiss onto the palm of her hand.

"Sure," she reached over and turned on her Ipod. "We've got raunchy, like _Don't you think I'm sexy_ and_ I'm too sexy for my hat _and, the classic, _You can leave your hat on._ But I think I might go for something slow and subtle."

"Lady's choice," he told her.

Belle opted for an alternate selection: _Turn me on _by Norah Jones. She found it on her play list and started it.

Gold had to laugh. _Like a flower waiting to bloom. _He was moving better now, probably more fit than he had been since his twenties but he wasn't sure he could shake it around as well as he could when he was younger. _Like a lightbulb in a dark room. _He slowly, stretching it around himself, pulled off his tee-shirt, doing his best to move in time to the sensuous music.

Belle had started to giggle. The man was lean and limber and did seem to be enjoying himself, going along with this bit of foolishness.

After the shirt, _I'm just sitting here waiting for you _his next move was to remove his sandals. He stopped to complain, "There's no way anyone can do this and look sexually attractive." _To come on home and turn me on._

"Let me show you," and Belle got up and pushed him down into the one comfortable chair that sat in a corner of his bedroom. _Like the desert waiting for the rain. _

She first slowly, moving in time to the music, pulled her tank top off revealing a simple blue bra. She then lifted her skirt. _Like a school kid waiting for the spring. _She bent over and first leisurely traced her hand down her leg before she unfastened one of her sandals. She lifted her foot out of the sandal. _I'm just sitting here waiting for you. _She then stood and raised the other leg, setting her foot on a chair. Again she bent over, giving him a choice view of her cleavage. _To come on home and turn me on. _And again she unfastened the sandal and slowly, she pulled her foot from the shoe.

"You do that so much better than I do," he acknowledged.

"You're back on," she directed him, crooking her finger at him, _My poor heart it's been so dark _and sat back down on the side of the bed. He began to unzip his pants and turning his back to her, _Since you've been gone _he managed a couple of slow gyrations before he got caught up in Belle's laughter and glee and started laughing himself. _After all you're the one who turns me off. _He dropped his pants and turned on her, sitting back down. "Now you." Both were smiling and laughing. _You're the only one who can turn me back on. _

She obliged, dropping her skirt and shimmying out of it, standing only in her bra and matching panties. _My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune. _He shook his head. 'Damn, she was so incredibly beautiful.' Her hair came down next. _My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes._ She embraced herself, running her hands up and down her body and slipped off her bra straps. She reached around herself and he knew she had unfastened the bra but her arms and hands still hide her from his view. _I'm just sitting here waiting for you _

"Madame, forgive me, but I can't wait," and he pushed her back on the bed _to come on home and turn me on._

_Turn me on._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The black cat had come out to keep him company again.

This evening had turned into one of the most fun events he had ever experienced. Laughing with Belle, playing, having fun. And the sex had blown him away – her too. She had seemed surprised when she had felt his shuddered release as it had burst into her, her eyes widening. He had held her and hugged her and kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

_His intuition didn't tell him that she was trying to trick him into marriage. _

_And what if she was? What if she was a clever, devious woman intent on getting her claws into his fortune? _

_Putting a pre-nup into the face of such of woman would certainly cool her heels. _

He shook his head.

_No, no, he didn't think she was such a woman. Right now, he thought that if he proposed she would likely turn him down. And if, by some miracle, she did accept him, she would be the first one to insist on a pre-nup, just so people wouldn't think she'd married him for his money. _

He petted the black cat.

_That was just Regina, stirring up trouble, like she always did so well. And Milah. . . well Milah likely did think that Belle was trying to get him to marry her, that's what Milah would be doing in Belle's position. _

_He needed to stop listening to these babbling bitches._

He counted his cigarettes. _Damn. _Still smoking six a day – four left.

_Thirty-one days down, eleven days to go. _

**A.N. Most of you appreciated the 'frenemies' chapter (apparently you have been in the position of knowing such vicious people - and hopefully have distanced yourself from them).**

**Thanks to: Ellie C (Guest), TygTag, Grace5231973, cheesyteal'c, RaFire, Just 2 Dream of You, jewel415, Leafena, , CharmedRumbelle, ctdg, Lattelady, juju0268, MyraValhallah, Aletta-Feather, redfilly (Guest), Heteroclite, and Girlyemma96 (and sorry I didn't get back to everyone individually to thank you – doctor's appointments and I'd had a personal request from an agency which had seen some of my work to put in an 18 page application to do some part-time work for them – so I was messing with getting that together - and I just got word that I've been approved).**

**And I wish I had made a note of it. but one you awesome reviewers suggested the 'Millian' contraction of the names (which I thought was hilarious and very apropos). If you'll remind me, I'll be happy to give you specific credit. **

**Rumbellefan4ever:**** Sorry if this story has not been your cup of tea. I could not imagine writing a story that amused or pleased everyone. **

_NEXT__ Belle Chere begins – there's dancing!_

_Gold gives Belle a special gift_

_Belle gets some extraordinary recognition_

_Gold and Belle get separated_


	32. Performances

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**CHAPTER 32**

**PERFORMANCES**

It was the first official day of Bele Chere.

Tents, displays, and booths had been set up all around town. Roads were blocked off. At the end of Broadway, right as it turned into Biltmore Avenue, right in front of Belle's shop, a bandstand was being put up. Ariel was to perform both Thursday and Friday evenings.

Gold and Belle had risen and were planning the day. Belle suddenly remembered that she had not been able to get the Saturn brought back over to the garage, having left it in the Hotel parking lot when she had gone there for The Lunch.

"Oh, I made a call and took care of that," he told her.

"You know that's a bit unnerving. Something needs to be done and you wave your fingers. . . " she wriggled her own fingers in the air. "It's like magic."

He gave a quick laugh, "Well, this magic has a price."

"Oh dear," she was now concerned. "I shall have to pay you back," she said immediately, without thinking.

He was shaking his head. "I don't think you need worry about that, my dear. I pay these people a large sum once a year and they provide me with a variety of little convenience services," he recognized that he had plucked Belle's honesty and fairness strings. "Let me assure you, although I'm hardly keeping score, that if we were to tote up what you owe me and hold it against what i owe you, I am very much in your debt."

Belle felt like she was blushing. She took a deep breath, "And now I feel kinda tacky, but did your people by any chance fill it up with gas?"

"I doubt it. Do we need to go buy and put a note on the steering wheel?" he asked.

"Absolutely. I've violated the Car Agreement and need to make it up to the others," she told him.

Belle then suggested they get out and walk around the city and check out all the displays. But first, he had been able to talk her into another shower with him: enjoying soaping her up and having her do the same to him. They did manage to rinse off before making it back to the bed for some close time.

He really liked this not having to use a condom.

He pulled on clean boxers, jeans and tee-shirt and left Belle fussing with her own attire. He again took over the morning chores, watering the plants and feeding the cats.

Susie looked at him suspiciously, sniffing her food.

"And what did you do with the wee mouse, darling?" he'd asked the cat but she just gave him a glance and went back to her food.

"I'm going to win you over, you temperamental, obstinate, stubborn female," he promised her. _Well, so much for her being tolerant of him._

Belle had come in and heard the exchange. "Frustrated by the only female you haven't been able to charm or buy off?"

"Absolutely," he admitted. "I've tried being nice to her, I've petted her, bought her things, fed her, but nothing seems to work. She still seems to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's been hurt and doesn't easily trust people. You just have to be patient," she told him.

"I'm not a patient man, dearie" he quickly informed her.

Belle looked at him a moment, "Actually I think you are the most patient man I know. I think if you knew it would take you twenty years to do something, you would just shrug and start working on it."

"Maybe, yes," he had to agree. "Sometimes, I have done just that. I think, sometimes that you know me well, princess, perhaps better than I know myself."

"Maybe, perhaps. I know I think you're a better person than you think you are. I know there's so much good in you, despite all the bad things you've done." Belle took his hand. "Come on. Let's get some breakfast and walk all over Asheville. We haven't been to Café 64, have we?" she asked him, heading out the door.

They crossed the street to go into the garage and Belle put a note on the driver's seat. Without Belle's awareness, Gold took out forty dollars and slipped it beneath the note.

He then dutifully followed her down Broadway to Patton to Haywood. The tents and booths were all set up but there was little traffic, cars or people, just yet. Gold felt a slight prickly sensation but glancing back he couldn't see anyone.

Probably nothing.

After a hearty breakfast (the Café 64 breakfast – two eggs scrambled, toast and grits - went to Belle and Gold got the smoked salmon scramble – two eggs scrambled with onion, cream cheese and salmon along with toast and grits) he and Belle started to visit the booths, going down both sides of the street. The street performers were beginning to display their talents.

Gold particularly enjoyed watching the performers. He was already well known to many of them for his propensity for discretely dropping twenty dollar bills in their hats or guitar cases. They all smiled and greeted him and Miss Belle.

Gold took Belle along the path of his usual morning walk and was able to tell her about things he had discovered about her own city, the backgrounds of some of the buildings, personal histories of some of the store attendants, and such things that she, as long as she had lived in Asheville, didn't know.

"I've gotten to know just about everyone in the stores and restaurants on my walk and I now know many of the street performers. I see Peter and his Lost Boys with Wendy frequently. They have a place up where Battery and Wall come together."

"How far do you walk every morning?" Belle asked curiously.

"I don't know, but it takes me at least forty-five minutes to do a complete circuit, up and down hills. When I first started I could barely make it down to Haywood and back; the walk on the hills set my knee on fire. Now I can go way down Patton, pass Haywood, take a right onto Otis, then right onto the Battery Park, left onto Haywood and then a right onto Hiawassee staying on that until it becomes Woodfin, making it up that big hill. I have other routes but that is my standard walk. Sometimes I walk it in reverse."

"Wow, no wonder you got fit fast. That is quite a walk," Belle knew some of the hills the man was going up and was genuinely impressed.

"Yeah, Dr. Hopper's pretty happy with how I'm doing. I still carry the cane because the knee will sometimes give out from time to time or will hurt like the devil, but I'm not as dependent on it as I once was."

"I've noticed that," Belle murmured.

"I guess you have," he smiled back at her.

They connected with Peter's troupe on Battery Park. The boys were backing up Wendy who was styling some new clothes. She waved excitedly at Belle and when she had finished her number, she and Peter approached Belle and Gold.

Wendy got to Belle first. "Ariel has asked me to sing backup with her tonight! It's like a dream come true! She's said she'll introduce me and everything!" Wendy twirled around in her new clothes.

"You look wonderful and I just know you'll do great," Belle assured her.

"I owe everything to you, Belle," Wendy had started to tear up. "Not just introducing me to Ariel, but keeping me alive for those first couple of months I was in Asheville, connecting me with Peter, encouraging me to start singing. Everything."

"No darling," Belle disagreed. "You would have connected with some of the other folks around here who help runaways and I know you would have started singing on your own, sooner or later."

"Ariel tells me it's just like what you did for her."

"Oh no, Ariel's another one who would have made it on her own," Belle was adamant. "Both of you are so remarkable. And all I did was what anyone would have done."

Peter had pulled Gold aside and spoke to him quietly, "You know you're being followed. Not a photographer."

"Yeah, I had a sense someone might be there."

"Well, it's not just you. James and Mary Margaret are also being followed. And me. I've given 'em the slip a couple of times. I don't think this has anything to do with you being Robert Spinner."

Gold connected the dots. "It's because we're associates of Emma."

Peter nodded. "That's my idea, too. Emma knows and it's both irritating her and freaking her out. She's not sure why these guys are following her friends but she knows it can't be good. Watch yourself."

"You too," Gold told the young man.

He and Belle walked on and at noon got lunch at one of the food wagons. Belle found some falafel and Gold found some pork barbeque.

By mid-afternoon, they had made it back up to Belle's store. She had to go in and check on how things were going. Ruby shared that, as expected, they were doing good business, but much of it was just going to Italian sodas. They were also giving away water, offering it to anyone who looked over-heated.

Out on the street, in front of the store, the bandstand had been constructed and plywood flooring had been put down. Belle shared that the shag contest would be there this evening. Ariel was also scheduled to do a short show tonight, weather permitting.

"It seems to happen every year. We are in a drought forever, but then when it's time for Bele Chere we get into these early evening monsoons and the bottom falls out, drenching everything," Belle explained.

"Doesn't the rain cool things off?" Gold asked her.

"Spoken like a true yankee, darling," Belle spoke kindly. "The temperature does drop but it's still hot. It ends up being a sauna effect. It can actually be hard to breath and harder to tolerate than the dry heat. I just hope it doesn't rain out the shag contest or Ariel's performance. Wendy is so excited to be going on stage with her."

Gold cleared his throat. "I may have overstepped myself. I entered us in the shag contest." When Belle turned on him, he hastily clarified, "We don't have to do it if you don't want to. I mean, I have no delusions that we're going to win. I promise I haven't rigged it or anything."

Belle had to smile at the man, "You know most men wouldn't feel like they had to reassure their girlfriends that they hadn't rigged a contest.

He flinched slightly, "Well, as you well know, I'm not most men."

"No, no you're not," she agreed with him. "You're quite special," and she leaned in and kissed him.

"So do you want to try the dance?"

"Absolutely. We have been doing a little practicing, so I don't think we'll embarrass ourselves. Sounds like fun. I'll need to find something more appropriate to wear for shagging." A sudden thought occurred to Belle. "Do we need to get in some last minute practice?"

"Not a problem."

They adjourned to the apartment and Gold put on his leather-bottomed shoes. Belle had stopped in at her own apartment and came upstairs wearing slender black cropped pants and black flats. She had put on a plain white short-sleeved shirt and added a plain gold chain necklace. Her hair was still twisted up on top of her head. A very different look

"Lovely," he commented. "You have a bit of an Audrey Hepburn look going on there." He looked her over closely, "Suits you."

He pulled up the songs he had been using to practice and put one of them on. He took Belle by the hand. Gold began them moving slowly, using just the basic steps with no extra movements, but as they became increasingly comfortable with each other, the movements became faster. While maintaining the fluidity of the dance, Gold took on the burden of the more fancy steps (staying true to the concept of this being a "rooster" dance).

He and Belle danced together for nearly an hour, laughing and becoming more and more at ease with each other, with Belle becoming much improved at following his lead. They both seemed to rapidly learn how to anticipate each other's moves, becoming more and more in sync.

They went down stairs feeling full of themselves after their excellent practice together.

People were beginning to gather. Among the couples were Mary Margaret and James and Ruby and Jefferson (who, Belle explained, weren't a couple, but did enjoy dancing together). There were many other people that Gold did not recognize, mostly older couples.

"Original shaggers," Belle whispered. "These people have been dancing the shag since it was first created. We don't have a prayer of beating these people. We'll be lucky if we make the first cut."

"Isn't the most important thing for us to have fun?" Gold asked her, wide-eyed and innocent.

"Well, look at you. Mr. Got-It-Right-Finally," Belle couldn't stop herself from giving him a kiss directly on the mouth. "Now, let's go out there and have fun."

Gold was in over his head but not so deep that he and Belle weren't able to hold their own for several rounds of elimination. They were a well-known couple with the crowd, many of whom adored Belle and most of whom liked (or, at least, had the wherewithal to cautiously regard) the mysterious man she had connected with. Gold relaxed and moved well with the music, bringing Belle along with him.

By the fourth round they were cut, amid boos and hisses from the crowd following them being tagged out. Belle was elated.

"I didn't think we would hold on that long! Look Mary Margaret and James are getting tagged out in this round and they've been dancing together for a couple of years."

They stood by and cheered on Jefferson and Ruby who were a well-matched dance partnership, both talented dancers who meshed well with each other. They went to the tenth round before tagging out.

The three couples stood by and, except for Jefferson, who excused himself to return to his bar, they cheered on the other dancing couples. They were, to their surprise, joined by Killian and Milah . . . and camera crew) along with Daniel and Regina.

"So this is what you do for fun," Regina remarked, unimpressed.

"I don't," confessed Daniel. "I'm not a dancer. Two left feet, I'm afraid."

"I'm stunned Belle got Bobby dancing," Milah observed. "I don't think I could have gotten him on the dance floor for love or money or sex or dope."

Killian had been watching the dancers. "This looks easy enough, Milah. Do you want to try it? I'm sure any of these dancers would love to give us a little lesson when they contest is over."

Milah looked immensely pleased. "I'd love to dance with you."

It had begun to cloud up and there was a brief moment that the weather turned almost comfortable. Once the contest was over, the defeated couples joined with many other couples and continued dancing. Milah and Killian got a quick lesson from about six other dancing couples (while being filmed). The dancing continued for a while and Belle invited her friends back into her shop for something cool to drink.

Milah was sipping her second cherry soda, leaning back in her chair when she noted the crowd outside of the store seemed to be getting bigger.

"Yes," Belle explained, "They are gathering to hear Ariel sing. We'll have the best seats from the rooftop if everyone wants to come up there. We won't get our pockets picked and there's a clean bathroom available."

"What happens if it rains?" Gold asked her.

"Depends. If it's an electrical storm the show stops. If it's just rain, the show continues, unless the performers can't deal with it. Ariel has no problem performing in a rainstorm, I can tell you, she acts like a fish in water. There are going to have to be active lightning strikes for her to cancel."

"Excellent. She begins performing. . . ?"

"Eight o'clock tonight and again tomorrow night," Belle answered.

oooooooooooooooo

They had all gathered on the rooftop to watch the show. Milah liked the option of sitting in a comfortable chair and having some alcohol to augment her viewing pleasure. There were a couple of local groups performing first and they paid scant attention to them as these groups went through their numbers. Right before the show, they got a phone call from Ariel that she needed Belle and Gold to come down to the stage front area.

"What's up?" Belle asked, but didn't get an answer.

"Just please come down for a moment."

Milah and Regina opted to come down with Belle and Gold. The camera man followed.

The crowd was pretty large by eight o'clock and they had to push their way to the front of the stage where they were met by some security people. It was nearly dark when the red-headed singer came onto the stage to loud applause.

"Thank you, Asheville!" she shouted out. "I plan to be here for at least two, maybe three hours tonight and I have some special treats I want to share with everyone."

Everyone cheered.

She continued, "Many of you know, I consider Asheville my home."

There was more loud cheering.

"Every year I come back and meet up with old friends and make new friends."

More cheering.

"This year, I made a special new friend and he had a request. He tells me he's in a relationship with a very special lady, but he finds it hard to tell her how special she is to him. He asked if he could have your indulgence while he sang a short, sweet song to her. I told him my fans would cheer for him just as loudly as they cheer for me because my fans believe in the power of True Love," Ariel's fans continued cheering, raucously agreeing with the singer's assessment of themselves. "Come on up here," she motioned to Gold who was quickly escorted up to the stage.

He grabbed a guitar and sat on a stool that Ariel had pulled out for him. She got on a second stool and also picked up her guitar.

"Sing your song Bobby, I'll do harmony," she told him.

Without any obvious nervousness at being the center of attention on a stage with a large audience, Gold began to strum a couple of notes and softly began to sing his song.

_There is one girl in my life  
That makes me love again_

Belle gasped. She didn't know the man could sing or play guitar.

_As pretty as a girl could be  
So beautiful  
Every morning she makes me  
A cup of coffee with a smile on her face_

Belle felt herself getting a bit choked up. This was the sweetest thing that anyone had ever done for her.

_I'm a man in love  
And she's glorious  
_  
The song was silly and unpretentious, but the words fit perfectly.

_Oh baby, I want you to stay in my life  
Never say goodbye, Even if you cry  
I'm still by your side_

Belle felt her throat close up and tears well up in her eyes. _He was singing this song for her. What he couldn't say to her, he was singing to her._

Ariel sang a soft counterpoint to his words, her voice not over-powering his but echoing his words, giving them depth.

_There is one girl in my life  
That makes me love again  
As pretty as a girl could be  
So beautiful_

By this point, Belle knew she was crying.

_Every morning I wake up  
And I think of her with a smile on my face  
I'm a man in love  
And she's glorious_

_Every morning._

He finished up and, to an amazing display of generous applause, he bowed, blew everyone a kiss and waved, walking back off stage.

Belle was nearly sobbing when he reached her.

Regina had watched the entire performance and remarked, "Good god, the man could buy her Exxon and she gets all choked up when he sings her a stupid song."

Milah was shaking her head. "She got him to dance with her. She got him singing to her." Milah couldn't fathom his behavior. "Either she's had a major influence over him or his medication's been changed."

Belle hugged Gold closely, "That was so beautiful. That was so beautiful. The sweetest thing ever."

Ariel was back on center stage. "Don't you two go off yet," she called down to them and then turned back to her audience.

"Many of you know my history," Ariel began. "I'd had a difficult life and had run away from home when I was fifteen. I ended up here in Asheville and. . . and. . . " Ariel was struggling to keep herself together. "I met someone. Everything I am today, everything, everything is. . . because of this woman. She literally pulled me out of a garbage can." Ariel paused, taking a few deep breaths while she recounted her troubled past. "I was living in a dumpster behind her shop and she pulled me out, gave me food, gave me shelter, gave me clothes but more than that," Ariel was beginning to cry, "she gave me hope. She gave me a reason to live, gave me confidence. Encouraged me to sing and, eventually, with her encouragement, I ended up on American Idol and then on to a great contract with Spin City. I want you to meet her."

Ariel glanced down from the stage vantage. Belle was trying to rapidly retreat but Gold held her steady.

"She's shy, folks. She'll tell you she didn't do anything special, but I know different. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. I wouldn't be anywhere. She saved my life. She gave me a chance. Many of you know her, how often she goes out of her way to help people. Some of you owe her as much as I do. Let's get her up here, Belle. Come on."

A flustered, embarrassed Belle was pushed up onto the stage. She was shaking her head.

"Ariel, you shouldn't do this. You would have made it here by yourself. You're so talented," she was whispering to Ariel.

"Can you hear her?" Ariel asked the audience. "Let's give a big round of applause to Belle French." She turned toward the crowd. "Raise your hand if Belle has ever done a favor for you, ever helped you out, ever said or done a kind thing not expecting anything in return."

Belle found the entire experience overwhelming and kept protesting. She hadn't done anything special, just fed and sheltered a poor kid.

Gold watched her. He had known she was a remarkable woman, no question. But looking at the crowd he was astonished at the number of others that had had their lives touched by her. So many hands had gone up. He could see the Lost Boys and Peter with their hands up. Wendy, standing with band, raised her hand, as did all the band members. Ashley and Ruby from the shop held up their hands. On the rooftop above his head, he could glimpse James and Mary Margaret with their hands up. So many others in the crowd, some he knew, many he didn't, had put their hands up. He was astonished when he saw Milah's hand go up and then, after a pause, Regina's.

He raised his own hand.

Ariel gave Belle a big hug and allowed her to slip off the stage to a background of a wild ovation. Belle fled into Gold's arms and he held her for just a moment before leading her away from the stage.

"That was so embarrassing. I hate it when people call attention to me for doing stuff that anyone else would have done," Belle was trembling.

He'd gotten her back into the stairwell of the building and just held onto her.

"Now you know that Ariel would never want to embarrass you. And you know that what you did for her, very, very few people would have done." He lifted Belle's chin so that she was having to look at him. "You. Are. Remarkable. Extraordinary." He couldn't stop himself and gently, as gently as he could, he pressed his lips to hers.

When they came up for air, he found he had wrapped his fingers into her hair and Milah and Regina were standing in the lobby, on their way back up to his apartment.

"Well, that was pretty heated," Re'gina observed. "Do we all need to clear out early?"

Belle ducked her head. "No, not at all." Belle managed to look back up at Gold, "We'll have plenty of time together. . . later."

As Belle led him up the stairs (Milah and Regina opting to ride the repaired elevator), she heard him say petulantly, "I think they should all go home right now."

"After the concert," Belle told him. "Don't pout. I owe you special thanks for that lovely song. Wherever did that come from?"

"It's a Basshunter tune. Just a silly song that I felt reflected our circumstances exactly right."

They had arrived at the apartment door.

He stopped her from going in.

"Belle, this, right now, this is perfect. I don't want things to change. I don't want this to end. I keep having this premonition that something is going to go wrong and everything will fall apart."

Belle considered and slowly responded to his concerns. "I know that depressed people are often anxious and anxious people can't stop themselves from worrying, from imagining 'worse case' scenarios. Let it go. We take each day as it comes. We have been doing that since we first met and we will continue to do just that."

Gold gently kissed her again. When he pulled apart, he asked, "How soon do you think our guests will leave?"

"Incorrigible," she had to smile at the man. She kissed him back and led him into the apartment.

0000000oo0000000

The group finished watching the concert, drinking beer or wine as each preferred. Gold had one quiet chat with Mary Margaret.

"Where's Emma?"

Mary Margaret looked at him. "She's busy. She has a special project she's been working on."

"Is that right?" Gold suspected that Mary Margaret, being married to James Nolen, knew quite a bit about Emma's 'special project'. He didn't press. "I notice that you are still eschewing alcohol," he shared perceptively.

Mary Margaret nodded. "Yes, we expect to be making a little announcement shortly."

"Congratulations, forgive me if I'm a bit premature."

"You will keep this a secret, won't you?" Mary Margaret asked him.

"Unless Belle asks me directly," he promised. "I try not to lie to her, even with something like this."

"You are a dear," Mary Margaret gave him a quick hug.

He then heard the thunder that had been threatening all afternoon.

"Oh no," they could hear a murmur of voices and a swell from the crowd, "Don't rain, don't rain, don't rain," reminiscent of 1968 Woodstock.

It rained.

Boy, did it rain.

But Ariel continued with her performance. She was drenched but that didn't stop her, with her announcing, "I'm not afraid of a little water."

"It's not the water that concerns me, it's the exposure of electrical instruments onto a conductive surface," said Gold. _Hmmm, could they develop batteries that were powerful enough to run amplifiers and guitars and all the sundry stuff that musicians relied on? Maybe. He'd have to pass the query on._

Her flaming red hair hanging in ringlets, Ariel was still moving back and forth on the stage, her powerful voice singing out to the audience, most of whom had taken shelter underneath the eaves of different stores on the street. Wendy was out on stage with her, her new clothes drenched and her hair hanging like string, singing her heart out, holding her own with the more experienced Ariel.

Belle saw what was happening with the audience. She grabbed her keys and headed downstairs.

"We need to let as many of those poor people into the store as we can. Come on," she directed the group and soon enough Gold found himself holding an umbrella over her head as she stood in the downpour, re-opening the store, leaving the door opened so that those inside could still hear the concert..

People crowded into the shop, grateful for a place protected from the weather. Gold couldn't help but notice how many of them bought at least a little something.

_Altruism be damned. Belle was one of the most astute businesswomen he'd ever encountered. This 'good deed' of her was quickly translating into a bumper profit with so many of those taking shelter spending money in her store. _Within about twenty minutes, with the rain still coming down hard, the Mast next door had also thrown its doors open, along with Curate (which had remained opened) and even the little Olive Oil store across the street re-opening. Many of the other little shops took advantage of the influx of patrons and benefited financially.

It was after eleven when Ariel called it quits and managed to make her way, with her backup band players and young Wendy, back over to the apartment. Belle got a phone call and Gold could tell she was talking with the singer.

"No problem. You know I have the sofa and the bed will sleep two. Do you need more than three?. . . . Oh. . . the guys. . . Well, I'd have to talk to him about it. . . . . . oh good. . . . . yeah, that idea is much better, but I don't know how Bobby will feel about it, and it is his apartment . . . . great concert. . . . no, it's all right, what you did, but you know I don't like that sort of thing. . . . I don't do it because people will approve or think it's a good thing. I do it because it's the right thing to do. You know that. . . . oh, I suppose so, but I still find it a lot of attention for just doing what I'm should to be doing. . . . . love you too, girl, see you in a moment."

"Ariel?" he asked.

She nodded, "Bedding down in my apartment with Wendy . But I'm out of sleeping places for the other band members." She looked at him with her big cornflower blue eyes. She hadn't asked, hadn't said anything.

He took a deep breath and made the ultimate sacrifice. "They could send at least four up here. I have a spare bedroom with a queen sized mattress, the sofa and my Ekornes chair."

She beamed at him. "That's so sweet. We were hoping you'd agree to that. I'll give Ariel a call. How about the boys up here and the girls in my place?"

"You'd be one of the girls?" he asked, warily.

"Oh yeah, Ariel and I could share a bed and Wendy could have the sofa. We'll have all the boys in the band up here."

"Great!" _No, it wasn't great. He hated it. He didn't want to do it. He hadn't been separated from Belle since their first night together. Bah! This doing stuff for other people without expecting anything back. . . well. . . it sucked!_

_How would he get to sleep? How would he stay asleep? Who would cuddle him? Who would be all soft and sweet and lick his ear? _

_He would miss the smell of soap and roses and her softness and yielding and the soft cry she would make when he would take her. _

When the young men arrived, it was worse than he'd anticipated.

Musicians!

All of them.

000000

Ariel and Belle sat together on her Belle's bed. Wendy had zonked out on the couch, exhausted by the activities and excitement of the evening's events.

"So you and Robert Spinner," Ariel began. "I don't think I would have ever put you two together in a million years. I mean, the guy has been great to me, but everything else that I've heard about him is . . . pretty. . . alarming. I mean, he's rumored to be just one step inside the law."

"Rumors. Old stuff," Belle defended Gold.

"How did you meet?"

"He came by the shop early one morning, looking for coffee. I felt sorry for him. He looked so sad and lonely."

"Another one of your rescue cases?" Ariel asked, smiling.

"No, well, maybe there was a little of that to begin with, but I was attracted to him immediately. I didn't think it could possibly be reciprocated and he was a bit of a douche our first couple of times together. I mean, the man is used to dropping a ton of money on people and expecting that to excuse all sorts of behaviors."

Ariel laughed, "A ton of money would excuse bad behavior for most people."

"Well, I'm not most people."

"Are you in love?" Ariel went right to the heart of the matter.

Belle closed her eyes, "Oh yes. It seemed to happen so quickly, as if it was meant to be. I went down hard. He is so overwhelming. I mean, Ariel, when I'm with him, it's hard to think about anything else. And I get all tongue-tied and . . . I feel like I'm fourteen in my first crush with a high school senior who's paying me some attention. No, that's not right. I feel like I'm Cinderella at the ball and the prince has picked _me_ to dance with. No, that's not right either. I feel like. . . like I have fallen into the clutches of some dark, ravening beast and, at first, he is grouchy and unpleasant but, slowly, he is showing me that he really is this nice, wonderful person underneath all the fur or the scales or whatever."

"You sure he hasn't just seduced you and you've been . . . swept away?" Ariel was a bit concerned for her friend and mentor.

"Oh yes, absolutely, he has seduced me and swept me away. But I have also seen some real changes and he seems to really like me. You heard his song this evening. I mean the man is willing to get up in front of a large crowd of strangers and sing a song to tell me how much he loves me."

"Has he told you he loves you?" Ariel asked.

Belle paused, "No, he seems to get close, but then he backs off. He had a difficult first marriage and women seem to have used him a lot . . . for his money, I guess, or his power. . . so he isn't quick to trust and open up. I'm just taking it a day at a time." Belle shifted and changed the topic, "Now, Ariel, tell me about your love life."

Ariel blushed, "His name is Eric. He's my financial advisor. Kinda a nerdy guy with glasses but really handsome and sweet and very hunky. And he _has_ told me he loves me. We're talking marriage, but I want to wait until we get to know each other a little better."

"Smart girl.

They talked a bit longer before turning in_. As she lay in the dark, Belle realized that she missed Bobby – not just the sex, but the closeness, the warmth, the slightly spicy male scent he exuded, the strength of his arms around her, the sense of security he offered, the vulnerability of the man than was only revealed in their most intimate moments. She had not realized it would be this much of a difference, that she would miss him this much. _

_Maybe she just needed to be the brave one and speak up first. _

0-0

Gold sat on the rooftop garden. It had quit raining. Belle had been right, though, even in the evening mountain air, it was now like a sauna with the combination of heat and rain.

He counted his cigarettes. Still had four left. He considered smoking one more – no reason not to.

He sat awhile. He didn't smoke the cigarette.

_Thirty-two days down, ten more to go. _

**A.N. Thanks (as always) to my great reviewers: The Prince's Phoenix, AnEloquentFacade, RoxyMoron, RaFire, Leafena, ctdg, Stargate533, Just 2 Dream of You, Grace5231973, juju0268, cheesyteal'c, DruidKitty, Ying-Fa-dono, Lattelady, MyraValhallah, xanimejunkie, CharmedRumbelle, Samzi, and Aletta-Feather**

_NEXT: Gold continues to do things for people without expecting compensation (an unsettling feeling for him)_

_A Shadow falls over Asheville (gets a little serious here, folks). _

_thx txm _


	33. Shadow

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 33**

**Shadow**

Gold woke up in an otherwise empty bed. He realized that he was hugging a pillow to himself, as a poor substitute for his usual soft, warm and delightfully cuddly (and responsive) bed partner.

_Damn, he missed Belle. _

He didn't want to wake up without her in his bed ever again. He needed to tell her that. Really, really needed to tell her that.

He might have gotten it out last night except for the Invasion of the Musicians.

He got up, showered and dressed. He went into the living room, working his way around the sleeping musicians. There were four strange young men crashing in his apartment . . . and _strange_ was the operative word. Well, what had he expected? They were musicians.

The black cat, Darwin, greeted him in the kitchen. He couldn't find Susie.

_Where'd the little bitch go? _

He looked around and finally spotted her curled up in a corner of his bedroom, under the comfy chair.

"Breakfast, darling, get your fine fuzzy rear out to the kitchen," he directed the cat, who opened one eye and glared at him for interrupting her sleep.

"It's just me today, dearie. I'm feeding you now, watering the plants and then heading down."

He did as he said he would and noted, as he was stepping out the door, carrying Darwin down to the shop, that Susie had found her way to the kitchen.

Belle was already there in her shop, all opened up to greet the new day. As usual, she greeted him with his coffee and a bright smile.

_How did she always manage to be so perky? Little Miss Sunshine¸indeed._

"Sleep well, darling?" she asked him.

"No, not at all. I missed you. The musicians ate our food, drank our beer, terrorized your cats, snored and broke wind. all. night. long."

"But I'm sure they appreciated your hospitality. I know Ariel did." She leaned into him. "And I appreciate you putting yourself out for someone else when there was nothing in it for you, not even a little tax deduction in sight." She leaned in closer and whispered to him, "And I missed you too . . . terribly."

"I don't want to sleep apart from you again," he held her in his arms. He might have said something else but he was surprised and distracted when Emma came in with the morning pastry delivery.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he remarked quietly to her, Belle detaching herself from him in the moment.

"Been very busy," Emma told him. "You know you're being watched."

"Yeah, I've had a feeling," he admitted.

"Some of them are my people. I've got watchers watching the watchers."

"Excellent. So something will happen soon?"

"I suspect so. Keep being careful."

Emma headed on out and Gold took his time finishing his breakfast.

It was after Emma had been gone for about fifteen minutes when he noticed the tall man standing outside of the store. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

There was nothing of particular to note, it was just an aura of unsavoriness. The man was tall and slender. He was well-dressed, perhaps a bit flashy, with a thin moustache. He carried a cane but didn't seem to have a genuine need for the support. The man entered the store and Gold couldn't help but notice people pulling back from the man. He ordered an espresso from Ruby, who quickly fixed him the drink and handed it off. The man sat down to drink his beverage.

He caught Gold's eye and the two men nodded at each other.

True to form, Belle eventually made her way over to the man and introduced herself. "I've not seen you in here before. Are you new to Asheville?" she asked him.

_Was Belle going to go through her usual interview for newcomers, like she had with him?_

It looked that way.

The man gave her an even smile, his teeth white against his café au lait skin. Even to Gold's untrained ear the man had an accent suggesting origins much further south.

"I recognize a New Orleans' accent. Am I correct?" Belle asked

The man agreed and shared that he was in town for business. He finished his coffee, thanked Belle for her hospitality and left.

Belle came over to Gold. "Did anything about that man strike you as peculiar?"

Gold took a deep breath before he answered and then he talked slowly, "For a short time, Belle, when I was a teenager, I. dealt. drugs. I know, probably the most reprehensible thing I've ever done, but long since done with that. It was during that time that I encountered some of the scariest, most untrustworthy, most unpredictable people, ever. You build up a sixth sense about such people. That man set off every alarm in my head."

"But he was so well spoken, nicely dressed, very mannerly," Belle protested, confused.

"It doesn't matter. It's a visceral thing. It's not something you see or hear or smell. It's something you feel. It's the same feeling you get when you sit in a room with Cora, with Killian Jones. Uh. . . probably, Belle, many people would tell you, when you sit in a room with me."

"Oh, you're a great big ole pussy cat," Belle had never seemed to have any fear of him. She continued, "Perhaps though, I get what you're saying. Do you think we should be concerned?"

_He didn't want to lie, didn't like to lie to Belle, but. . . ._ "I doubt it. He's probably just someone passing through." _No reason for her to be anxious . . . and it was probably nothing._

Belle was looking at him.

_Oh hell, she knew, she could tell he was blowing smoke._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Somehow he made it through the day, a very confusing, even somewhat hazardous day with all the tourists, all the changes, all the booths that blocked his usual walk and got in the way of him following his routine. Gold was able to get to his yoga class and made it back up to the apartment for his usual smoothie.

The Band Members were beginning to stir and, at their request, he made them all morning smoothies.

"Dude, this is awesome! You should go into the smoothie making business," said Gus, Ariel's lead guitarist. "You could make some real money."

"Oh Gus, you like everything. Although, Mr. Gold, this is really good," said Jacques the drummer.

Her rhythm guitarist and backup male singer was a disgruntled young man, Sebastian, who just looked at Gold and then gave him a thumbs up.

"Thanks man, for putting us up and all. It's a long trip back out to the tour bus. I'm not looking forward to packing it all up tonight and getting back on the road," shared Flounder, who Gold took to be their roadie.

Gold looked questioningly at the husky young man. "We have to try to pile all our equipment into Ariel's little Fiat and we can't get it all in one trip, so we have to make several trips back and forth, back and forth, until we get it all. We need somebody with a van that we could do it in one trip."

Gold hesitated. "I have a van you could use," he volunteered. _Putting himself out for somebody. With nothing in it for himself. He hoped he wouldn't regret it._

"Dude, that would be great! We could load you up and get you to make one trip out to the bus. We'll give you a key and you can just stack it in the back of the bus and leave the key inside. We can drive on out in the car afterwards. That would be so fine. It would be about eleven tonight. Would that work?

"Sure," he told them. _He hoped this would work out._

The young men all gave him air high fives, then settled in to watch his television and eat his food (and probably drink his liquor) for the rest of the afternoon.

Susie had made herself scarce and he couldn't locate the little 'fraidy cat.

O0o0o0o0O

Fortunately it only rained a little that Friday night. Ariel had an enormous crowd gather to hear her and Gold and Belle were able to watch her from the rooftop garden. They had the best seat in the house.

It was afterwards that he explained he had agreed to help take Ariel's equipment back.

"You are being so sweet," Belle complimented him.

"Well, Ariel is pretty valuable property and I wouldn't want anything to happen to her stuff," he attempted to wave Belle's compliment off.

"Of course. Wouldn't want anything to happen to your property," Belle agreed with him.

But the woman was smiling at him.

He was getting soft. _Doing stuff for people with no expectation of payment._ Belle was a decidedly positive influence on him and he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with this. _What would his investors say if this ever got out?_

Belle had waved him on and he went down to get the van. He was surprised to see Emma hanging out in the garage, particularly given the hour.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. "The Saturn needs gas."

"Just checking on some things," she told him. "What are you doing?"

"Helping someone," he told her dryly. She grinned at him.

"Oh, I wanna see this," she told him and he motioned for her to get on into the van.

He drove it carefully, on the lookout for drunken revelers, high roisters and just distracted party-goers, around to the back of the stage while he explained his mission to Emma.

The band was waiting for him and helped him load things. James and Mary Margaret had come up to speak to Ariel and the band members; they saw what was happening. James knew where the bus was parked on the outside of town and offered to ride with Gold and Emma. James had noted Gold was limping a bit and felt like the man would need some help unloading. Mary Margaret shrugged and got into the van also.

And off they went out to the bus that had been parked in an isolated parking garage on the north side of the city. They arrived in the darkened garage and began to unload the van. Gold _was_ limping, his leg bothering him more than usual impacted by the sudden, unusual dampness and James and the two women suggested he stand aside. He felt the pain enough to lean on his cane and watch them, although it chaffed at him.

A dark car pulled up alongside them.

Initially Gold thought it might be some of the band members, but remembered that the only car they had between them with the little red Fiat. Was it someone lost. . . asking for directions?

He thought he might recognize the man getting out of the passenger's seat.

"Delightful," he heard the man say and realized that the man was holding a gun on Emma. He recognized him as the New Orleans tourist from earlier that morning. The driver of the car also got out with a drawn weapon. This somewhat overweight, balding man he didn't recognize. The foursome of friends froze.

The man with the gun spoke, "Miss Swan, I am so delighted to meet up with you at last. I've been waiting for an opportune time to make your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself."

Emma stood still as the second man came by and he pulled her gun from underneath her jacket. The second man also frisked James, removing a weapon from him. The man also took everyone's cell phones and took some apparent delight in crushing them beneath his heel, one at a time.

"I know who you are," Emma told the man coldly. "You are Dr. Facilier, also known as the Shadowman. You run drugs, people, guns whatever you can find a profit in. I had my people watching you. How'd you get away from them?"

"I'm called the Shadowman because of my extraordinary capacity to move in the shadows, without having people see me," the tall man explained.

"You had to have slipped out of a third story window and evade two watchers on the street!" Emma was annoyed and distressed.

"Yes, you did an excellent job of trying to box me in. I find you a worthy adversary, my dear. You've been more difficult for me to deal with than anyone else I've encountered so far. I assume, you know what I have come for – that block of cocaine your city has been holding as evidence."

"How do you expect to get it?" Emma asked him.

"Easy enough," Facilier told her. "My partner here, Lawrence, will hold the young lady," he nodded at Mary Margaret, "and the older man," he nodded in Gold's direction "as hostages, while you and the good deputy mayor take me to the city impound. There we will retrieve the drug. Once I have the drug, I will call Lawrence and he will deposit your friends at a secret location. Once I'm away, I shall call you and disclose to you where your friends have been left and our business will be done."

"How do we know you won't have Lawrence here kill my friends?" Emma asked.

Facilier sighed, "I don't like murder, Miss Swan. It's messy. I do resort to it from time to time, when a strong statement is needed, but I don't like it. Usually just a warning shot will accomplish the job." He smiled at James showing even white teeth before turning his attention back to Emma, "I guess you'll have to trust me on this one, my dear. I believe you know me well and know that murder is not my usual style."

Gold could see that Emma was gritting her teeth. She nodded.

"All right, but take good care of my friends," Emma told Lawrence.

Dr. Facilier motioned James and Emma into the van, putting Emma into the driver's seat. He gave last moment instructions to Lawrence, "Handcuff these two, take the cane away from the old man and sit on them until you get my call. If you haven't heard from me by one, kill them."

Gold and Mary Margaret watched the van drive away. Lawrence handed Mary Margaret some handcuffs and directed her to put these onto Gold.

Gold protested his hands going behind his back, using his weak leg as an excuse. "I have to be able to balance myself on my cane or I shall fall. Look at me, I'm too old to give you any trouble." He made himself look as feeble as he could.

"He really isn't able to get around without the cane, Mr. Lawrence, sir," seconded Mary Margaret, her eyes wide-eyed and innocent.

_Damn, but if she wasn't a good liar._

Lawrence relented and had Mary Margaret cuff Gold with his hands in front and allowed him to keep his cane so that he could get some support while standing. He was able to use the cane in an awkward manner while trying to walk.

When Lawrence went to cuff Mary Margaret, Gold nearly fell, distracting the chunky henchman. Mary Margaret, apparently also startled, fell into Lawrence.

"I'm so sorry. I was surprised and lost my balance," Mary Margaret apologized.

Lawrence finished cuffing her hands behind her and, using his gun as a pointer, motioned them both to get into the car.

They complied, piling into the back seat, Gold setting his cane on the seat as he sat on top of it.

"Where are you taking us?" demanded Gold.

"We have a little house a bit further out," Lawrence explained and drove off into the night.

Mary Margaret paid close attention to the streets, noting the direction they were traveling and keeping track of road names.

Lawrence, not one for conversation, turned on the radio while they drove.

Gold knew damn well that coordinated Mary Margaret had not lost her balance. He had provided her a distraction and, quick witted as she was, she had fallen against the henchman and reached into his pocket for the handcuff key. Gold had recalled her telling him about her own disreputable past as an accomplished pickpocket. He leaned over and whispered to Mary Margaret, "Were you able to get the key?"

She nodded and, turning around, showed him the key she had clutched in her palm. With considerable fumbling, unable to see and barely able to feel, Gold was able to unlock one of her cuffs. Putting her hands in front he was able to unfasten the other cuff. She then attended to his cuffs. Then Gold slipped the key into his jeans' pocket and they both replaced the cuffs, holding them in place. At that point, Gold too began attending to the street names.

Soon enough they arrived at a broken down house on the outskirts of town.

"This place looks like a meth lab," commented Mary Margaret.

"I'm sure it was," Lawrence told her, keeping the gun trained on the two as they made their way slowly out of the car, up some steps (with Gold continuing to wobble and struggle with movement) and into the house.

They entered directly into what must have been a living room area. Poorly lit with a side lamp, the room was a sad grey. There was a broken down old sofa and two equally disreputable chairs, stained and dirty. The floor hadn't been swept any time recently. The place smelled of mold, cigarettes, and body wastes. The walls were covered with peeling wallpaper and splatters of what Gold and Mary Margaret both hoped was brown paint.

"Have a seat," Lawrence told them. "We'll need to wait here."

Gold using his cane, slowly made his way over to the sofa and more or less fell onto it, propping his cane up by his side. Mary Margaret sat down next to him.

"You've known the Doctor long?" Gold asked the henchman after he had settled in.

"Long enough," Lawrence replied.

"You trust him?" Mary Margaret asked him.

"He's always come through before."

"But you do his dirty work, I imagine," Gold said. "What does he give you? Ten percent?"

"I make out all right," Lawrence seemed defensive.

"So not even that," Gold surmised. "This is a very lucrative deal he's pulling off tonight. You should come out of it with enough money to get out of country and set yourself up in style. What did he promise you?"

"Shut up," Lawrence told Gold.

Gold sat still a moment, taking in Lawrence's attire. The man had made an attempt to dress well, but his clothes were constructed of cheap materials and even a modest inspection revealed they were not of any real quality. Lawrence apparently had champagne tastes, but only a beer budget.

"I might be able to pay you more than Dr. Facilier," Gold offered softly.

"I doubt that. Dr. Facilier is one of the richest men in New Orleans."

Gold knew he was taking a chance. "I'm one of the richest men in the world." He let that sink in. "Lawrence, do you know what a black American Express card is?"

"I think so. They offer that to people who do like a million dollars worth of business in a month or something like that."

"Excellent," Gold commended him. "If you look in my wallet, it's in my back pocket, you'll find a special edition of the black card. I can arrange for you to get a cash advance. How would ten thousand dollars sound? As a start. It would take a phone call."

Lawrence was tempted. Gold and Mary Margaret could see that. He was considering the offer. But, as he thought it over, Lawrence began to become nervous.

"No," he finally decided. "Dr. Facilier doesn't take kindly to people double-crossing him. Bad things happen to them. Really bad things. I'm sticking to my deal with him," Lawrence gave a slight shudder, perhaps recalling some of the nastier rumors of Dr. F's response to people who tried to break deals with him.

Mary Margaret stretched her legs as she could. "So, are we going to be here long, do you think?" she asked. "This is such a dismal. . ." her eyes went to a dark corner of the room. Gold tensed, he knew she had a plan. Sure enough, serene, composed Mary Margaret began to scream, "It's a rat! It's a giant rat!"

Reflexively, Lawrence turned to look in the direction of the dark corner and Gold quickly rose and used his cane to knock Lawrence sharply across the shoulders. He struck him again. . . and again.

Lawrence pitched forward and was splayed on the ground. He had dropped the gun and Mary Margaret made a dive for the weapon. She came up with it, pulling off the cuffs that now dangled from one arm as she came up and pointed the weapon at Lawrence.

Gold wasted no time removing his own cuffs and handcuffed Lawrence's hands together. He looked around the shabby house. _Where was a refrigerator when you needed one? _He would have to make do. "Watch him," he directed Mary Margaret while he went back into the house. _Yes, there was an old-fashioned iron rail bed complete with something that had once been a mattress in one of the backrooms. _

Lawrence was reviving and Gold had Mary Margaret direct him to the back bedroom where they threaded the second set of handcuffs through the ones already on his wrists and fastened them to the bed railing. _Not great, but it would have to do._

Gold retrieved Lawrence's cell phone and car keys.

"Come on Mary Margaret. We've got to let Emma know we're all right without alarming Facilier."

They went out to the car and Gold got into the driver's seat. As they drove away from the house, Gold noted the street they were on: _Elcar, about the third house on the left_. "Do you know how to get back to town?" he asked Mary Margaret.

"I think so," and she began to give him directions.

Gold debated who to call. Not Emma or James – they had no phones. Not the police, they might not know what was going on and could get people killed. Who else could he call? . . . _Daniel. _

He didn't have the man's number. Mary Margaret had his number but, oh, it had been in her phone and she didn't know it out of her head.

Maybe, just maybe. . . Gold searched his memory and called Milah's old phone number.

Milah answered and was most surprised to hear Gold's voice.

"Milah, I apologize for the hour, but there's a problem I need to get resolved right away. Be a dear and get me Regina's number. I have misplaced it and need to talk with her about something in one of these contracts." He tried not to let the desperation show in his voice.

Milah was suspicious, but went ahead and gave him the number. He cut her off and dialed it.

Regina answered. He needed to get a message to Daniel _right now_. Could Regina help with that?

The next thing he knew, Gold was talking with Daniel. _Regina must have been lying in bed with the man. _

"Listen, the Shadowman is in town and took James, myself, Mary Margaret and Emma as prisoners. He split us up, leaving myself and Mary Margaret as hostages. We got away but he's still got Emma and James and they're heading to the police station to get the cocaine," Gold explained in a rush.

"Where are you now?" Daniel asked him. Gold looked at Mary Margaret.

"Where the hell are we?"

"On our way back to the garage," Mary Margaret told him.

"I heard that," Daniel said. "I'll meet you there. I'll explain when you get there."

0000oooo0000oooo0000

Dr. Facilier, Emma and James made their way into the police impound.

"Where is it?" Dr. Facilier asked Emma, looking around the large vaulted area.

"Not here," Emma told him, folding her arms.

"What?!" Facilier was astonished.

"You just asked me to take you to the impound facility. I did."

"Where's the cocaine?" Facilier asked.

"Not here. I moved it," she told him.

Facilier was furious and began to overturn items in the impound room. "Take me to the cocaine," he ordered Emma, turning the gun on her and James. "Take me there now or I will call Lawrence and have him kill one of the hostages. You will take me there NOW."

Emma nodded. "Come on," she turned and led the men out.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Belle was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. She began to make some phone calls. Belle called Gold. His line indicated it was out of order. She tried Ariel next and connected. Ariel said Gold had come by with Emma, James and Mary Margaret to get the stuff some time ago. Ariel was back in her bus and was actually on the road. There had been no sign of Gold when she had gotten back to the bus but all the stuff was where it was supposed to be. Ariel had figured they had made the delivery and headed on back into town.

Belle tried her friends' phones. But Emma's phone was out of order. So was James's. So was Mary Margaret's.

_That's odd. _

_Where was he?_

Belle was increasingly concerned. She opted to go out and look for Gold beginning in the garage and went down the stairs and across the street.

It was nearing midnight and the streets were pretty well clear of traffic and pedestrians both. Belle made it up to the third floor where Gold routinely parked his vehicles. Belle could see the yellow Prius C, the Lamborghini and the little burgundy Saturn. The place for the van was empty.

Belle was about to call the police to see if there had been an accident when she heard a car engine and was relieved to see the van pulled in. The van parked next to the Prius and Emma and James got out, followed by a tall man that Belle recognized.

"You came into my shop this morning and got espresso," Belle told him.

"Miss French, I believe," the man nodded in her direction. "Delightful to see you again. Now, Miss French, if you would be so kind as to give me your cell phone."

Belle saw the man's gun focused on Emma. She handed her phone over to the smiling man who smashed it under his foot.

Belle asked, with some trepidation, "Emma, James, what's going on?"

"Allow me to introduce Dr. Facilier, Belle. This is a very powerful, very successful criminal. He's in town to steal the cocaine the police were holding from a major drug bust," Emma made the introductions. "We're all here in the garage because I arranged to have the cocaine moved to a secret location, here, in this building, some time ago."

"Where?" Belle couldn't stop herself from asking. She had noted Facilier's gun which he kept leveled on the group.

Emma hesitated looking at James then Belle, "Gold's Lamborghini."

"What?!"

"Excellent choice, Miss Swan," Facilier complimented her. "A car this unique is unlikely to be stolen. Anyone would recognize it and anyone who has a car this valuable almost certainly has some sort of security, a GPS and such, wired into it."

Emma proceeded to open the trunk of the vehicle and pulled out two bags each about the size of a bag of flour. She handed them off to the Doctor.

"Excellent, my dear. Now which of these vehicles shall I borrow? Not the van, nor the Lamborghini, both are too distinctive. Miss Swan, I believe you may have the keys for the little Prius?"

Emma nodded and, slowly, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the pod for the car.

Facilier opened the door to the little car and pulled back, "Merde! This smells like dead chickens!"

"Actually dead turkeys. I thought Gold was going to get it fumigated," Emma explained.

"He did," Belle told her. "It's much better now."

Facilier glared at the two women. "How about this Saturn? I've seen Miss French driving it. Give me the key for it."

Belle hesitated but only for a moment. She reached down into her pocket and pulled out the key for this car and handed it off to Facilier.

"Let me tell you what shall happen next," the arch criminal explained things. "I will take the drugs and I will take a hostage. Miss French will do nicely. When I'm safely away, I will call Lawrence to have the old man and the young woman released and when I'm quite secure, I shall release Miss French. Easy enough, I think." He pointed at the passenger seat of the Saturn. "Miss French."

Belle swallowed and got in.

Facilier started up the vehicle and drove down to the street. He stopped for a moment before actually turning into the street. He engaged the child lock. "I wouldn't want you jumping out if I had to stop," he explained.

Belle spoke up, "This car needs gas."

Facilier looked down at the steering column and saw the yellow sticky note. He then noticed the gas gauge. "All right, let's take care of this before we get on the road."

"Where are we going?" Belle asked. "I need to know to tell you which way to go to get gas at this hour."

"The Blue Ridge Parkway."

"All right. I'm going to take you out the Brevard Road."

"Very accommodating, Miss French," Facilier complimented her.

"I just want to get throught this in one piece," she told him.

Facilier followed Belle's directions and they found a gas station right before the entrance to the Blue Ridge.

Belle sighed and, apparently quite reluctantly, told him, "You need to know that this car does better if you put in a bunch of the fuel injector. There are about eight, maybe ten, bottles in the back seat all ready. It takes them all towards the end of the month and we haven't put any in so far this month. If you don't, the car will drive ragged and might not keep going."

"Well aren't you a helpful little hostage," he sneered at her.

"I just don't want to be stranded with you anywhere if this car breaks down," Belle told him plausibly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Daniel drove up in a '74 land cruiser almost the moment the Saturn was out of view and got out to talk with Emma and James who were still standing in the garage, "Gold called. He and Mary Margaret escaped and are on their way back here. I didn't know where to send them and I was hoping I could get them all out before you got here with Dr. Facilier. I guess you were much faster than they were."

"Shit, Gold is going to go ballistic when he finds out that Facilier has taken Belle hostage," Emma shared.

It was at that moment that the black car came peeling around the corner and Gold and Mary Margaret got out. Gold saw Daniel and both James and Emma. No Facilier.

"I assume Dr. Facilier has been apprehended," Gold said, limping over to Emma.

"Not exactly," Emma winced in explanation. "I had put the drugs here in the garage and he came with us to get them. He got them and he's taken off."

"Took the Saturn?" Gold asked, noting its absence.

"Gold, he has a hostage," Emma said softly.

It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Somehow, he knew, he knew before Emma said, "He took Belle."

Gold nearly sunk to the ground, "NO. What? How?"

"She came here looking for you when you didn't come back." Emma began to explain.

"Why didn't you get her to leave?" Gold was building in anger.

"She was already here when we got here. I'm so sorry," Emma said.

"Sorry?! You're sorry!" Gold was furious.

"Gold, settle down," James told him. "We need to concentrate on getting her back."

"Let me use your phone," Emma asked Daniel as she began to take charge of the situation. "If only we had a way of tracking that Saturn. It's such a common car that it's going to be hard to follow."

Gold cleared his throat.

Emma looked over at him.

"Maybe, I can help with that. I was concerned that the car might break down and whoever was in it might be out in the boonies. I put a GPS tracking device into it."

"Holy merde!" Emma explained. "I'll be all indignant about you violating our privacy later. Let's get on it."

They ended up at the police station and with help now backing them up, they were able to determine that the Saturn had stopped for gas on the Brevard Road.

"It was almost out," Gold shared. "Maybe Belle can do something to get away or sabotage the car."

"I don't know what she could possibly do," James said.

"Belle is very smart. If anyone can think of anything, it would be her," Gold said.

"Belle is freaking brilliant," Emma agreed. "But I can't think of anything she'll be able to do. Well, they've started back up and they're getting on the parkway." Emma was able to follow the information coming in.

"Why has it stopped again?" Mary Margaret was watching the display in the police department, peering over their shoulders.

"I don't know. They seem to have pulled off at the French Broad River overlook. "Let's go." Emma was on her way out. James, Daniel, Gold and Mary Margaret followed. James stopped and talked with Mary Margaret.

"But I want to come. Belle is my friend," she was protesting.

"Please. This could be very dangerous."

Gold watched and when Mary Margaret continued to protest he stepped in and said quietly to the pretty brunette, "You need to think of your baby. You know that."

James looked sharply at Gold. "She told me last Wednesday," Gold explained. "Congratulations by the way."

"Thanks. Listen to me and listen to Gold. You need to take care of yourself and my son," James told her. "You can go home and I'll call the landline to give you regular updates."

Miserable, Mary Margaret relented, listening to the voices of reason. She gave James a quick kiss, "Take care of yourself. Love you."

"Gold, you need to stay here or go home also," Emma told him. "You're not only a civilian. . . "

Gold interrupted her, "There is nothing you can say or do that would keep me here."

Emma read the determination in his eyes and knew she would never win this battle. "Let's go, then."

000-000-000

Belle was sitting quietly in the passenger's seat. The Saturn had begun to sputter and lurch and they had just managed to roll into the rest area above the French Broad River, just after getting onto the Parkway.

"What the hell is wrong with this car?" Facilier asked her.

"How should I know?" Belle asked him. "It's an old car and very temperamental. But I've never had it completely choke down like this. Maybe if you give it a moment, it will restart."

Facilier pulled out his phone and dialed. Belle could tell by his response that there was no answer and this was a concern. Facilier dialed another number.

"I need an untraceable car. I'm at. . . where are we?"

"We're near mile marker 382, the Folk Art Center. Tell them to get on the Blue Ridge at 25 and go left."

"We went right," Facilier said suspiciously.

"They're getting on at a different place," Belle told him.

Facilier relayed the information.

"Now we sit and wait," he told her.

After about ten minutes, Belle asked, "Listen, there's nowhere for me to go here. It's kinda hot. Could we roll down a window."

Facilier looked her over. "You appear to be an intelligent young woman."

"So, I'm told," she responded.

Facilier lowered the windows, while Belle continued sitting quietly in the car seat.

Facilier dialed the phone again and again was met with frustration

"Where is that idiot Lawrence?" he huffed and sat back in the seat.

"Where exactly are we?" he asked Belle.

"We're overlooking the French Broad River. They used this in a movie with Sir Anthony Hopkins. They shoot a lot of movies here in the Asheville area."

"Really. I don't get out of New Orleans much and I go to the movies less."

"I suppose your 'business' keeps you busy," Belle was cautious but wanted to get Facilier talking.

"Miss French, if your goal is to try to connect with me on some 'human' level, you can quite wasting your time. I'm invested in transporting this cocaine back to my home and distributing it for a considerable profit. I have no time nor interest in becoming one of your friends."

"I understand," Belle told him and then just sat and stared at the man. He seemed nervous and agitated. He repeatedly dialed a number that apparently was never answered. She would occasionally hear him murmuring vague threats against someone named Lawrence.

It was awhile before they both heard something, something that sounded like a car engine.

"This road is not well traveled?" Facilier asked Belle.

"Not at night, not usually," she told him.

"Then get out of the car," he told her. "This is our ride."

Belle could just make out an old Toyota Land Cruiser.

_Belle knew this was not Facilier's ride. She had given the wrong mile marker to the Doctor to give to his cohorts and they were more than ten miles away. Did she know anyone who drove a beat up old Land Cruiser? She had to be ready. She began to inch away from Facilier. _

_If she could roll under the car. If she could make it over to the Land Cruiser. If she could run down the side of the overlook. She considered this last option. It would put her out of range the quickest, but in the dark was the most dangerous of her options. _

The door to the car opened and Facilier raised his gun, focused on the person getting out of the car, _not on her. _

_Meanwhile. . . _Emma had crept up the side of the overlook, along with several other police and agents and, of course, Gold. Daniel, who they didn't think was known to Facilier, had taken on the most dangerous role of driving his car directly up to Facilier. He had told Emma that Belle might know it was his car (and she would certainly know him) and this would be a way to alert her that the good guys were on her tail.

Daniel staggered out of the car, feigning drunkenness. "Hey, I s'psed to meet JD. Whar is he?"

"There is no JD here, sir. I suggest you drive on."

"Well, shee-it," Daniel said, not getting back in the car. "Maybe that son o' bitch is just runnin' late. I'm gonna kick his ass when he gets here."

"He won't be coming here tonight. I suggest you try another time," Facilier was persistent in trying to move Daniel on.

Daniel was inching closer as Belle inched away, "You know JD? Did he send you instead?"

"Listen you redneck. JD is not here. JD is not coming. If you know what's good for you, you will move on," Facilier had let his smooth demeanor slip a bit and some anger was coming through.

"Redneck?! Who you callin' redneck, you Flavor-Flav-looking faggot?" Daniel wanted to know and lurched at Facilier.

Belle vaulted.

Emma watched as events unfolded in a slow motion parade of actions.

Facilier moved to backhand Daniel with his pistol, missing Daniel only narrowly as he just managed to dodge and roll out of the man's reach.

Then Facilier raised his gun toward fleeing Belle's direction.

Then he fired.

Belle crumbled.

Someone screamed, "Noooo!"

And the next thing, moving faster than she would have ever given him credit for, Gold had come up over the edge where he was crouched, pulling his slender gun barrel from his walking cane as he moved, crossing the ground between Facilier and now he was holding his one-shot gun to Facilier's head.

"Give me a reason," Emma heard Gold say to Facilier.

**A.N. sorry to end on a cliff hanger, folks, but I'm sure it's at least midnight and we're into Day 34, so what happens will have to wait until the next chapter (rest assured, I'm not killing off any major characters, nor will any character develop amnesia). **

**Let's have a round of applause for CharmedRumbelle who correctly guessed the identity of Emma's villain.**

**Thanks to my great reviewers: Leafena, CharmedRumbelle, RaFire, RoxyMoron, Lattelady, MyraValhallah, Just 2 Dream of You, Stargate533, jewel415, juju0268, DruidKitty, Grace5231973, thedoctorsgirl42, Aletta-Feather, ctdg, AnEloquentFacade, cheesyteal'c **

**And Guest: it's the principle of the thing with The Cat. He's not used to rejection (despite feeling that no woman could truly love him, he thinks all women will go for his money and he doesn't ever expect to have an overture rejected). Belle has been an exception (and now The Cat). **

**And ShineLovely: I've been a vegetarian for about forty years – I'm familiar with the book Forks over Knives (wasn't aware there was anything to watch). I have a rare blood disorder and my current doctor is a vegan and he is most supportive. He diagnosed me correctly and working together, after two years, I've been put into remission (at least for this week). I've done a number of dietary tweaks but there's been no further impact on my condition. I don't eat eggs, but I'm Scottish/German in heritage so I have the gene pool to process milk – my husband is Native American, so he can eat eggs, but has no tolerance for milk. **

**And SoftKitty: Yes, Gold is selfish (and self-absorbed, arrogant and a bit petulant)- it will take something big to shake him up, to get him to come clean with his feelings, not just to Belle, but to himself (hence Chapter 33). Thx **

_NEXT: Gold goes into a tailspin_

_(This next will probably be the darkest chapter of the entire story, so hang with me, please). txm_


	34. Big Yellow Taxi

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 34**

**Big Yellow Taxi**

Emma took in the scenario in front of her.

Daniel had regained his feet and had pulled his gun.

Gold was still standing with his gun to Facilier's head.

Facilier stood frozen, his gun still in his hand.

Belle, oh god, Belle was lying still in a heap on the ground.

"Don't do it, Gold," Emma was up over the edge herself and had her own gun out and leveled at Facilier. She made it over to the duo and took Facilier's gun. "Drop the gun, Gold, we've got him," she ordered.

"He shot Belle," Gold said without moving.

"Go see how she's doing," Emma again ordered him.

Very slowly, Gold lowered his weapon and turned to Belle.

Everyone let out a breath.

Gold went over to Belle. Even in the darkness he could see blood seeping out of her back.

"She's been shot! Belle, Belle, can you hear me?"

Daniel was now by his side. "Emma, my phone," he requested. She tossed it over to him. Then he was calling 911.

"We have a gunshot victim at the French Broad River overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Victim is bleeding profusely. We need an ambulance immediately. This is Detective Bean calling."

Gold could hear Daniel talking but it was as if he was far away.

"Gold, put your hands over the wound. Try compression to stop the bleeding," Daniel directed him, listening to instructions from the 911 personal.

Gold complied, putting his hands, bunching Belle's little tank top under his fingers, over the ever-seeping pool of blood. "Belle, don't die. Belle, I love you. I love you. Please don't leave me."

Daniel could hear the man talking to the non-responsive woman. The man sounded like he was praying.

"Keep talking to her, Gold. Keep compression up. The ambulance will be here very soon," Daniel encouraged him.

Daniel went over to talk to Emma who had handcuffed Facilier and gotten the arrogant criminal into a police car. She had also retrieved the cocaine from the trunk of the Saturn.

"How is she?" she asked Daniel whispering.

"Alive, but bleeding pretty badly. It's a mid-chest wound, possibly he got her in the heart. If the ambulance doesn't get here soon, she could bleed to death," Daniel was also whispering to Emma.

"Oh god, not Belle," Emma said, closing her eyes. This was her best friend. She shouldn't have been involved. She shouldn't have been here.

Gold continued pressing on Belle's back. She hadn't moved. She hadn't murmured. The only sign of life was the still oozing blood.

_Gold knew that the dead did not bleed._

He didn't know how long he had knelt by Belle, talking to her, professing his love, begging her to stay with him when there was the sudden awareness of a siren and flashing lights. Several strapping young men were by his side, carrying a stretcher.

"Hello sir, I'm Chip," one of them spoke to him. "We need you to keep compression up. We're going to shift her on to the stretcher and then we want you to move with her up and into the ambulance. You got it?"

He nodded.

"On the count of three. One, two, three." Belle was shifted onto the stretcher in a smooth, fluid manner. "We're going to lift her, now." And Belle was lifted. Gold managed to stay with them and maintain pressure while he maneuvered himself into the back of the ambulance.

Chip immediately hooked her up to an IV and began administering fluids. He seemed very young to Gold's eyes, but also seemed reasonably competent. Chip began talking to someone at the hospital and Gold felt the ambulance lurch and begin moving. He heard the siren turn on and they were off.

Gold heard Chip talking about a gun shot wound . . .possible cardiac involvement . . . profuse bleeding . . . unresponsive.

"Are you her dad?" Chip asked him.

"Fiancee," Gold told him without a second thought

_Yes, yes, he thought. "Boyfriend" didn't cover it. He did want to marry the woman. But she could die before it happened. Why had he not spoken up before? Why had he not told her he loved her before? It might be too late now._

Gold rode in the ambulance which was moving rapidly down the road to the hospital.

Chip was talking directly to him now, "Sir, we've got a surgery team waiting on us. Dr. Whale's been called in. He's the best cardiac guy at the hospital. We're going to do everything we can. When we get there, we're going to need you to step back and they will take her right into surgery. Understand?"

Gold nodded. He knew he was biting his lip. This might be the last moments that he would ever have with his Belle.

_He thought back to earlier that evening when she had called him "sweet" and smiled at him. He should have told her he loved her then._

As the ambulance slowed up to move into the hospital ER bay, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Belle, I love you," he told her one more time _maybe for the last time_.

The hospital staff, while not unkind, pushed him back and took Belle away. She went through some double doors and then the doors closed. He was left standing in the starkly lit hallway of a back corridor of the hospital.

Alone.

Soaked in Belle's blood. It had oozed up on to his own shirt and pants.

He slumped against the wall, numb, barely able to remember to breathe.

He knew what he wanted. It had been nearly four months, but all the old cravings were back, the deep hollowness, the fierce hunger, the drive to do something. . . anything to take away all the pain. The darkness was back, like he was possessed by an evil entity, determined to swallow his soul. And the voices, all the voices telling him how unworthy he was, he needed to shut them up.

He needed a hit.

He needed a hit badly.

He reached for his phone and remembered that he didn't have a phone.

But he still had his wallet. Could he go somewhere and buy a Trac phone? He should be able to get a connection here.

In the meantime he had the pills he kept in his cane.

Where was his cane?

Oh damn, he'd left it at the overlook.

He was trembling. He was hurting. Bad.

A young woman with a hospital identification badge came by. "Sir?" she was very nice. "Sir, are you the man that came in with that young woman gunshot victim? I'm so very sorry, but I need to get some information from you." She looked him up and down. "And you need to change. Let me get you some scrubs." She led him up to the Surgical Waiting Room, the same one he'd sat in to keep vigil when James had been shot. She handed him some hospital scrubs.

He went into a bathroom and washed up, pulling off the blood-soaked tee and jeans. The blood had soaked through to his underwear but had begun to dry. He elected to keep these on rather than go commando. He slipped on the scrubs. The young woman was waiting for him.

"I need to get some information to help with her care. Let's go in here," she led him into a side alcove that was minimally furnished with a table and a couple of chairs.

She began with routine questions about Belle: her name, her occupation, and so on. Did he know anything about her insurance? He told her he did not, but assured the young woman that he would take care of her medical bills. She then began to ask him questions. When he gave her his name, she looked up at him.

"Robert Spinner? Sir, are you the Robert Spinner who owns Rumii?"

He nodded.

"Weren't you just on TV with that new battery?"

"Yes." He ran his hands through his hair. "I'm on vacation here in Asheville."

The young woman was looking at him with renewed interest. "I saw that interview. This is the young woman that Ms. Scentz mentioned might be in your life. Oh, I am so very sorry. Of course, she'll get excellent care here."

Gold knew when his name had impacted on people. This young woman knew quite well who and what he was – one of the richest men in the world.

He graced her with a smile and hoped she would think the shaking was just reflecting his level of distress. "Do you have all the information you need?" he asked wearily. When she nodded, he then said, "I need a phone. Mine was lost in the scuffle." She took him over to a wall phone.

"This is a payphone. It takes credit cards."

He hadn't seen a payphone in a long time. The credit card slot was new. "This will do." He thanked her.

He called an old business associate. "Yeah, this is Gold. . . I don't give a damn what time it is. . . I need a friend. . . I'm in Asheville, North Carolina at Mission Hospital. . . In the Surgical Waiting Room. . . Put it on my tab. . . Tell them to ask for Gold."

He hung up, still trembling. He hesitated, but then decided. He called an old friend, "Archie, yeah, this is Gold. I. . . I. . . I'm having a bit of setback. I don't know if I can hold on. I've made a connection and I'm afraid I'll take it when it comes. I hurt. I hurt so bad."

He listened to Archie for a while. "Yeah. I'm at the hospital. A very good friend. . . a young woman. . . someone I've fallen in love with. . . she was shot. . . her name is Belle. . . she may not make it. . . I'm by myself. . . no, I don't know anyone I can call. . . Bae is back in New York. . . no, I don't want to check myself in anywhere. . . I want to be here. . . I have to find out. . . she may not make it. . . I don't have a regular phone. . . I'm calling from a payphone in the Surgical Waiting Room. . . all right. . . all right. . . all right. . . I'll do my best. . . yeah, I'll ask myself what would Belle want me to do. . . thanks Archie. thanks."

He hung up and buried his head in his hands.

0000000

It was around two in the morning when Mary Margaret got a call from James (thank goodness they had kept that landline) that Belle had been shot and had been seriously wounded. She had been taken away with Gold in an ambulance to the hospital. Mary Margaret was also told that Facilier had been captured.

Mary Margaret went upstairs and got the second keyfob for the Prius C. She wasn't about to borrow the Lamborghini. The Prius was stinky, but drivable.

She got to the hospital and found the main entrance was closed off for routine security reasons. She went on into the ER room. She talked with the staff, some of whom recognized her as the Deputy Mayor's wife (from James's previous stay) and she was able to get clearance to go up to the Surgical Waiting Room. Once there, she easily spotted Gold. He was the only one in the large waiting room, sitting slumped over in a chair. He was dressed in ill-fitting scrubs.

"Bobby!" she called out to him and rushed over, hugging him. "Heard anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She went down and never moved after that. She just kept bleeding. They have her with a heart surgeon," he managed to get out.

"Oh my stars!" Mary Margaret said and she sat down next to him, holding on to his hand.

"I rode in the ambulance with her," he told her flatly. "They told me to keep pressing on her wound. They told me to keep talking to her. She just kept bleeding, Mary Margaret. There was so much blood."

Mary Margaret saw that the man looked blank, as if the spark of life had gone out of him. He talked without any inflection in his voice. Mary Margaret was most concerned about him.

"I'm going to stay with you," she assured him. "I won't leave you. You stood beside me when James was in the hospital. I've not forgotten that. And Belle is my best friend."

He seemed to look at her for the first time, "Yeah, I forget there are other people who love her too."

Mary Margaret squeezed his hand, "And we love you too. You've been so good for her."

"What?!" he barely registered this. He had thought that it was her making him the better person. He had never thought that he was good for her.

"She's so much more confident now. And happy. I've never seen her so happy."

Gold had tears in his eyes, "What will I do if she dies? I never told her how I feel. I never told her that I love her."

Mary Margaret sat quietly a moment, "That is hard. When James was shot, we realized that we hadn't told each other often enough. It can never be too often . . . to tell someone you love them. 'Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.'" she quoted. "Belle is still with us, Bobby. You could still have time, get that second chance."

Gold pressed away tears and allowed Mary Margaret to hold him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma got through her paperwork as quickly as she could. She knew there would be more. James had gone on and joined up with Mary Margaret at the hospital. Daniel had gone on back to his farm . . . and Regina.

How late was it?

Four fucking o'clock in the morning.

Damn. Where had the time gone?

She had assumed that Mary Margaret would have called her, but then suddenly realized that Mary Margaret didn't have a phone . . . and she didn't have a phone for Mary Margaret to call. Good grief, something could have happened to Belle and she would have no idea.

Damn, she sighed. She'd have to borrow one of the police issue.

Emma stretched. She had to go on to the hospital and check on Belle.

But first she would make a couple of phone calls herself. She could use the office phone here at the police station.

For one of the calls, Emma gave the Surgical Waiting Room a call, hoping to connect with Gold. She was able to get with Mary Margaret (who had answered the waiting room phone when it rang) before driving on to the hospital. Any news? _No. _Anything she could bring? _Yes._

She got a short list and swung by the apartments to get some things.

She was surprised when she went by the apartment. There was a small crowd of people gathered, most of them carrying candles and sitting outside of the building.  
"Have you got any news?" one in the crowd asked.

"She's in surgery still," Emma told everyone. "I'm on my way to the hospital. Anyone here have a phone I can call. I'll keep you posted."

"Yeah," there were several people who came forward and Emma wrote about three of the numbers down on her hand.

"Everybody who knows is praying for her, Miss Swan."

"I'll let people know. Thanks," Emma told them and went on up the stairs to get a few things on Mary Margaret's short list before bidding the crowd goodbye and driving off to the hospital in a police cruiser.

As she started into the hospital, showing her identification to get in, she noticed a familiar figure in the shadows. "Shenzi!" Emma greeted the slightly disreputable young woman who was furtively making her way into the hospital. "Is Banzai here with you or are you by yourself tonight?"

"Miss Emma! I'm just uh here by myself and I'm in the neighborhood and I uh I am here now," Shenzi was very nervous and appeared to be looking for a way to slink out.

Emma looked the young woman over. "Picking up or dropping off?" Emma asked her. Shenzi didn't answer, just took turns standing awkwardly on one foot or the other while looking down at them, "I don't think this is a good place for you right now," Emma told her.

"I guess. . . uhm. . .I'm gone now," Shenzi answered and backed out of the hospital.

When Emma came in, she spotted Gold, Mary Margaret and James sitting in a corner. The waiting room was empty except for them. Gold was sitting, low and dejected.

Emma went over and leaned down to give him a hug. "I take it we've not heard anything?"

Mary Margaret shook her head.

"There's a big crowd gathering in front of the bookstore. Somehow word got out that Belle had been shot and there's a group of people praying for her," Emma shared.

Mary Margaret had to smile, "Belle would be so embarrassed. She was never comfortable being the center of attention. We'll have to wait until she's better and tell her then."

Emma nodded. Her shy friend wouldn't like a lot of special attention. She turned to Gold, "Bobby, I brought you your cane," she handed him the cane he'd left at the overlook. "Now, why don't you lie down on the couch here. I'll get you a blanket," Emma told him. The man looked dead on his feet. He looked at Emma vacantly.

"Let me have my cane," he told her and took it, almost gratefully.

He sat holding it a moment. "I'm going to excuse myself a moment," he said to no one in particular and got up, with the cane, to head to the men's room on the side of the waiting room.

"Should we go after him?" Mary Margaret asked.

"He is kinda twitchy, isn't he?" Emma agreed. "I can see him from here. He's stepping into the men's room."

James stood. "Now that you're here, Emma, I'm going to take Mary Margaret down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. You two will be all right?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Emma reassured him. She watched her two friends leave on out to the cafeteria and then she waited patiently. The door to the bathroom opened, with Gold coming out of it and closing behind it behind himself. He locked eyes with Emma.

He came back over and sat down.

"You found them, I take it," he said directly to Emma.

"I did."

"I should have you arrested for stealing my property," he told her.

"I should have you arrested for carrying around a Schedule IV controlled substance without the appropriate prescription bottle," she shot back at him. "I counted twenty Xanax in there."

He gave her a tight smile, "And you just left me one."

"For now. I figured one was justified. I'll give you another one in six hours," she told him.

"I can get it every four hours," he corrected her.

"I don't think so. These are one milligram pills. You can't have more than four milligrams in a day. I checked."

"My doctor had me on six milligrams," he told her.

"You got the prescription bottle?"

"No."

"You want me to call your doctor and make sure you're not lying."

There was a pause, "No."

"Then you're screwed."

"You're a mean bitch, Emma."

"I'm your friend, asshole. I know you've got a history Bobby. . . what you're going through right now, this kind of thing can set a person back, any person."

He was trembling. She could see it.

He said in a soft voice so that only she could hear, "I'm not like you and Belle. You two are strong and brave. I'm weak and cowardly. I can't deal with this."

"Bobby, if there was anything I could say to make it better, you know I would. I've sat where you're sitting. Someone I cared about a lot, somebody I hadn't told how I felt about them, was shot and. . . and. . . he died. I know how it feels. I didn't think there was any way I could stand it, that I could deal with it. I just want something to make me numb."

"Emma, what will I do if she dies?" The man was clearly in anguish. "I was so sick when I came to Asheville, barely into recovery and I've been doing so well. . . all because of her. At first I was just having fun but then the feelings came. I fell in love with her. I know she's much too good for me, but if she dies, I won't have the strength to go on," he looked at her. "When your somebody died, how did you go on? How did you make it?"

"I had friends. I had my job. I knew the last thing he would want would be for me to let his death be my death. I still get sad about it." Emma had tears in her eyes. "Taking down that bastard Facilier, whom I just know was behind Graham's death also, that has helped, immeasurably. When he ends up in jail, paying for his crimes, I think I will start to really heal."

"I would have felt better if you'd let me shoot him," he told her honestly.

"But that would have been wrong," she reminded him. "And it wouldn't take back what he had done to Belle."

"I still would have felt better," he persisted.

"Yeah, I understand. But you know, Belle would never approve. Now, you lie down. I'm going to get you that blanket," she told him.

Emma went over to the night desk and after showing her badge and throwing around some of her authority got a blanket and a pillow for Gold.

He lay quietly, not closing his eyes.

"Emma," she heard him one last time. "I'm really hurting, really hurting."

"I know. And, just so you don't keep awake expecting anyone, I stopped your connection as she came into the hospital. So you're on your own – just you and one Xanax at a time."

There was a long pause, before he said, "You are queen of the bitches."

He lay quietly for a while and then spoke up, "Did you hide the cocaine in my Lamborghini?" he asked.

"Yup," she admitted seating herself on the floor with her head next to his.

"You put ten pounds of high grade cocaine into the car of known user? What the hell were you thinking?" there was more emotion in his voice than she had heard before.

"Last place anyone would look. It worked didn't it?"

"If I ever feel any better, I'm going to beat you," he told her. He thought about it and added, "Probably with my cane."

"Yeah, well you're all hat and no cowboy, so I'm not really scared," she told him and almost smiled. Emma leaned back and, not even aware that she had closed her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0O

James jostled her awake.

"They've got word on Belle."

Gold was already sitting up, groggy but pushing himself toward alertness.

Dr. Whale himself had come out. He looked exhausted but gave them a quick smile which Emma immediately interpreted as some good news to come. There was no one else in the waiting room, so he sat with the four friends right there.

"Miss French has made it through the surgery. The bullet was a small caliber one and just nicked the ventricle of her heart. It didn't hit her spine or any other organ. We were able to repair the damage to the heart and, very importantly, stop the bleeding. We gave her quite a bit of blood as she had lost quite a lot. We're keeping her sedated. We don't want her moving around just yet, but she should be able to have visitors, one at a time, later today, for a brief time."

"She's going to live?" Gold asked.

"Right now, her prognosis is pretty good. There's still the risk of infection, blood clots, all the things that follow major surgery. There will be a long recovery period and she'll need a lot of support."

'Thank you," Gold said.

"You are her father?" Whale asked him.

"Her fiancée," Gold explained. This was becoming a pattern.

"She's a strong woman. Very strong." Whale reassured him.

"I know that," Gold replied. "Very strong, very brave."

"Can we do anything?" James asked. "Donate blood?"

"That would be an excellent idea," Whale responded.

"I'll get on that tomorrow, uh, today," James promised. "There are a lot of people who'll be happy to give up a pint for Belle."

"When can I see her?" Gold asked.

"She's still sedated. It will be later this morning before she'll be able to tolerate any visitors. Then it can be only one at a time and then only for ten minutes," Whale instructed them. "Get some rest folks. She'll be in intensive for a day or so before we'll be able to put her out into a regular room. It's going to be a long recovery."

Gold collapsed back down into his seat after Whale left them. Mary Margaret turned to him. "Does. . . uh. . . Belle know that she's your fiancée?"

"Nope," he answered.

"All right," Mary Margaret just nodded but didn't say anything else.

James and Mary Margaret were looking at each other. "We need to get home," James said. Emma promised to call them on the landline if there was further word and gave them her police phone number. Frustrated they all realized that they would need to have replacement phones as soon as possible. Gold looked up from his place on the couch.

"I'll replace them. It's something I can do."

"Bobby, that's not necessary. We can get pay-as-you-go replacements for the time being, " James started.

"I can't give blood," Gold said flatly. "I have a drug abuse history and I haven't been clean very long. This is something I can do. I'll have phones delivered tomorrow to you three. I guess Facilier took Belle's too? I'll go ahead and get a new one for. . . for her. . . so she'll have it," his voice cracked, "when she's better."

"Bobby, that's very generous of you, but you don't have to do this," Mary Margaret had sat back down next to him.

"You'll have to take them by your providers and get them activated. They can probably transfer all your data and you'll be as good as new," his voice had returned to having that alarmingly flat quality to it.

"Emma, will you be ok staying with Bobby?" Mary Margaret was worried.

"He's going to behave now that he knows that Belle will need him," Emma reassured her friends. She looked at Gold, "Right?"

"Yeah. I'm struggling but I'm going to be all right," he managed a weak smile.

Emma watched him closely. The trembling had slightly decreased.

"Why don't you get something to eat out of the vending machines. You can show me again how to get coffee out of that big ass machine in the lobby here."

"I'm not hungry. I need to call about the phones. I need five of them. I'll want to get Forever Batteries for everyone. Cricket can help with that. I'll call Leroy. What is it? About six? That's not too early, is it?"

"A little. It's Saturday morning. A lot of people sleep in. Some people don't even actually go to work today," James told him kindly.

"Okay. I'll wait until seven. I'll go ahead and call my concierge to order the phones. Smart phones all around. Tell me what you people want?" he asked them. "I can get the next upgrade."

They all shared and then Mary Margaret and James left out. Emma followed Gold as he went to sit in front of the pay phone.

"Don't entirely trust me, do you?" he finally asked Emma.

"No I don't, darling. You were two hairs from taking a nose dive two hours ago. You're still pretty wrung out. Tell me, just what was your poison of choice?"

"Back when I was using?" he asked and she nodded. "Chippy, blow, nose candy, snort, lady, dust, cocaine, whatever you want to call it and, of course, whatever the hell else I could get, including some pretty dandy prescription stuff. Later there were the times I started using pain medications, anti-depressants, stimulants, man, I got some good some stuff. Better living through chemistry."

"When did you start using?" she asked him.

He hesitated. "I was in my early twenties. I was running the stuff. I never used that heavily and, several times, I would get scared and check myself into rehab and would manage to get clean for a while. The first time I got completely clean for any amount of time was after Bae was born. He seemed more important than my habit."

"How did you manage to make a gazillion dollars and stay addicted?"

"I had a lot of clean periods. I was still clean when I went to Harvard, when my business started taking off .l . . I didn't seem to need the drug then. It was sometimes difficult but I was able to keep away. I'd made my first billion, but my marriage well and truly began to fall apart and my son moved out, I felt I had nothing. And I started using again. I was more sophisticated about things then. I had a couple of hospitalizations and got a lot of prescription drugs that I was able to substitute for the coke. Only when Dr. Hopper got a hold of me did I start confronting my addiction and my depression. I started really getting better again. I reconnected with my son. My business really took off again, I went into the eight figure income bracket. But then a couple years after, I went through the divorce and it set me back – it was so nasty and unfair. I'd have been better off just giving Milah half of my worth and walking away than going through the whole she-cheated-on-me-and-I-don't-owe-her-a-damn-thing fight."

"You came out ahead though, didn't you?" Emma asked.

"I guess if you don't count being smeared in the press and new media as a beast."

"But those of us that know you, we know better. You're no beast."

He looked over at Emma, his eyes dark. "You think I'm not? I get through this night. . . I see Belle. . . Emma, I'm going after Facilier's empire. He tried to take something that belongs to me. No one takes anything that belongs to me. I plan to dismantle him. I have enough resources, the right contacts, I can do that."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Emma asked. "Seems to me that puts you back into the underbelly."

"He hurt Belle. I'm going to hurt him."

Emma nearly drew back from the sheer anger in the man's voice.

"Nothing illegal?" she asked.

He just looked at her without responding.

"Make your call to get us new phones," Emma told him.

0

They let Gold into see Belle at eight o'clock that morning. It wasn't prescribed visiting hours but the staff thought that, all things considered, a brief visit from the woman's fiancée would be in her best interests.

_Plus word had gotten out about Robert Spinner's presence in the hospital. People were beginning to fall over themselves to make sure he was happy._

He approached her cautiously. She was lying in a hospital bed, raised up high for the convenience of the staff. She was propped on her side and had pillows put around her to support her and keep her in position. There was an IV running in fluids and another pint of blood was being pumped into her.

Belle managed to open her eyes. "Hi sweetie," she managed to whisper.

"Hi," he told her, holding it together.

Someone had cleaned her up, wiping off the blood but they hadn't combed her tangled, lank hair. She was in the ubiquitous poorly-fitting green-striped hospital gown. Her color was poor. Her lips were cracked. Her eyes dull, lacking the usual sparkle that lit them up.

_She had never looked more beautiful to him. _

"I love you," she managed to croak out.

"And I love you too," he responded without reservation.

"They tell me I got shot," she was just able to tell him breathlessly.

"Yeah, but you're going to be all right. Facilier's in jail. Everyone else is doing fine."

"Just me then?" her speech was slurred.

"Just you," he confirmed.

"I'm sorry," her voice wavered.

Gold didn't argue with her. He knew now was not the time for rational comforting. He just stood by her and held her hand. She didn't seem to have the strength to talk anymore. She just squeezed his hand.

Oooooo000000ooooooO

James and Mary Margaret were back in the waiting room when he got out.

"How is she?" Mary Margaret asked.

"She looks like she was shot, lost a gallon of blood and underwent about five, six hours of surgery. She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her."

"Well finally," Mary Margaret impulsively hugged him. "How much sleep have you two gotten?"

He shook his head. "Maybe, about two hours," he said.

"How about anything to eat?"

"I was afraid to leave in case there was a change in Belle's status," he shook his head again.

Emma spoke up, "We couldn't even go to get coffee out of the sexy vending machine."

That caught James's attention, "The what?"

"Oh it's something that happened when you were in the hospital. Gold here was showing Jefferson how to get coffee out of a temperamental vending machine. It was pretty hot."

"What?" James was not following this.

"We'll get him to show you sometime," Mary Margaret promised. "Definitely, we'll get Bobby to show you how to get coffee out of the machine."

The two men exchanged glances and shook their heads.

The phones (without the Forever Batteries) were delivered to the hospital by eight thirty by special messenger that morning. Gold's had already been set up for him to use.

"Oh hell. I've got sixty-seven voice mails and over a hundred text messages," he said after checking the phone.

"Tell you what," Mary Margaret proposed. "You and Emma go and get something to eat. When you come back, you lie down and get some sleep and, if you'll give me your access code, I'll go through your messages."

He considered. "Deal, on one condition."

Mary Margaret looked at him, waiting.

"Let me make a couple of calls before I get something to eat and hand it off to you."

Gold did just that, going off to the side to make his calls. He handed the phone off to Mary Margaret then he and an equally exhausted Emma went down to find something to eat.

All but six of the messages were calls asking for information about Belle's condition. The remaining six included one from Bae, letting his father know that he was on his way, one from Milah asking what the hell was wrong with him, one from somebody named Leroy asking if Monday was still on, one from Mallie Scentz asking if he wanted to connect for lunch sometime, one from somebody identifying themselves as a realtor who wanted to schedule an appointment to look at some buildings and one from Dr. Hopper who wanted to check on how he was doing.

Mary Margaret had brought her personal computer and started a blog to update everyone on Belle's condition: "Belle's Spells, the Path to Wellness, Day One."

"People can check the site for updates. It's much easier than fielding constant calls," she explained to James and both Emma and Gold when they returned.

A nurse came out to them at that point, "Mr. Spinner?" she asked.

Gold raised his hand to indicate he was the one she was looking for. "Dr. Whale asked me to take you to a proper room rather than having you wait in the ICU waiting room. He's asked us to be sure you are made one hundred percent comfortable, that anything you need is provided. We have a special VIP room that's been prepared for you."

Gold nodded, "Excellent." _His money was talking and getting things done._

The room was well-outfitted, with a hospital bed, a couch and several chairs that pulled out into single sleepers. There was a television and a small fridge in the room, along with a closet and multiple drawers. There was also a small bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower. There was a large window to let in natural light.

Mary Margaret directed Gold to the bed and Emma to the couch. He insisted Emma take the bed and put himself on the couch. Mary Margaret said she would take a turn in the ICU waiting room and let them know if anything happened _although, at this point, Gold was pretty sure someone from the hospital would track him down if there was a change in Belle's status_. James left to get his own phone and Mary Margaret's phone turned on. Gold lay down and allowed himself to sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

When he woke, it was nearly one in the afternoon. Emma was still asleep. He roused and washed his face. He went out to the nurse's station and asked if there were any updates or if anything had been dropped off for him.

"No updates on Miss French," a prim nurse told him. "A man came by and left these for you," she handed him a set of car keys.

He smiled at her, but didn't seem to have any effect on her attitude. "Thank you," he told her and went on out, trolling the parking lot until a car blinked its lights at him.

"_Nice, a black Cadillac Eldorado. Very nice. _

He got into the car and set up the GPS to take him to Elcar Street. He stopped and got some bottled water, some crackers, and a pack of cigarettes. As an afterthought he pulled into a Dollar General and picked up a pack of large sized underwear, pajama pants and a single large tee shirt hawking Asheville as Sin City. It was early afternoon, but he had no difficulties recognizing the house.

Lawrence was still handcuffed to the bed in the backroom. Lawrence had soiled himself and looked completely broken.

"I thought you guys weren't gonna send anyone back for me. I tried calling out but nobody in this neighborhood cares," he said, angry and upset, but almost grateful that Gold had returned for him.

Gold opened the water bottle and allowed Lawrence to drink some.

"There has been a change of fortunes for your boss. Dr. Facilier has been arrested for drug trafficking, attempted murder, and whatever else the ATF, FBI and local authorities can pull together."

"He's been arrested before," Lawrence told him, defiantly.

"This is Asheville. Federal agents are involved." Gold sat back on the bottom of the bed. "_I'm_ involved."

"Listen, you. . .you . . . you came out of this all right. You and . . .and. . . the pretty woman that was with you. . . " Lawrence stammered.

"But a lady who is very special to me did not do so well. That bastard Facilier shot her. In the back. She's alive but it's still touch and go. I'm gonna take him down." Gold shifted and gave Lawrence a slow smile, "and you're going to help me."

"I don't know about that, Mr. . ."

"Gold. Everyone calls me Gold. I've made a call and some of my people are coming to get you. Now this could work out well for you. . . or it can work out poorly, very poorly."

"Mr. Gold, sir. I've told you I can't betray Dr. Facilier. People who cross Dr. Facilier come to a bad end."

Gold got off the bed and began to unfasten one of the handcuffs. He had Lawrence's fingers in his hand. "Lawrence, people who cross _me _come to a bad end. Now think about this before you answer. Who do you work for?"

Lawrence hesitated, "Dr. Facilier is really scary. I really think it would . . ."

Gold took one finger and bent it back abruptly, breaking it.

"Who do you work for?" Gold asked him again.

"Listen I can't cross. . . "

Gold broke another finger.

"Who do you work for?"

"You, Mr. Gold," Lawrence answered.

0000oooo0000oooo0000

Gold had been into see Belle one more time, but this time she was asleep. He stood by her bed and gently ran his fingers through her hair while holding her hand. He got a quiet supper in the hospital cafeteria with Mary Margaret and James, leaving Emma and Ruby on Belle Watch.

He felt more relaxed than he'd been in a couple of days. Lawrence was safely stashed away. The Blood Drive for Belle was going on, making the local news. Tomorrow, Gold would begin making some additional calls.

He now sat in the hospital room looking out the window. He knew Emma would be coming up shortly _she was still keeping a close eye on him. _Ruby had promised she would be going by to feed the cats, so he didn't have to worry about the little boogers.

He had checked his cigarettes. He sat in the room smoking cigarette number six.

Emma came in. "You can't smoke in here."

"You gonna arrest me?" he asked her.

"It's a hospital! You can't be smoking in a hospital. Someone's going to come in, see what you're doing and. . . "

He interrupted her, "And what? Ask me to leave? Ask me to put it out? Forbid me from coming back in the building?"

Emma considered these options. "Shit," she finally said.

"I'm telling you Emma, if someone from the hospital walked in this room right now, they wouldn't see this," he held up the cigarette, "or smell this or in any way notice this. This is invisible. They aren't going to risk doing anything to piss me off."

"But it's still wrong."

"Well, consider this," he took one deep drag from the cigarette. "This may very well be the last cigarette I smoke for a long time, maybe forever."

"What do you mean?"

"When I get busy, I don't need my other drugs. No coke, no alcohol, no nicotine, no caffeine. I don't need it. I might, on occasion, take a hit of something, but I don't _need_ it."

"You planning on getting busy?" Emma asked him.

"I do, my dear, I do. I have three little projects that I shall be devoting my time and energy to. They should be enough to keep me busy."

Thirty four days down, eight to go.

**Thanks to all those reviewers: Just 2 Dream of You, Leafena, RaFire, RoxyMoron, xanimejunkie, ctdg, Stargate533, MyraValhallah, CharmedRumbelle, LynRward, The Prince's Phoenix, juju0268, Anonymous Nerd Girl, thedoctorsgirl42, cheesyteal'c, jewel415, DruidKitty, AnEloquentFacade**

**anon (Guest): lol intriguing suggestion; however, a number of people flipped out when I had Belle as the recipient in a consensual act between the two protagonists, so I don't think this is the right story for this specific activity. (I will say, there are times I might agree – Gold has been resistant to anything except topping in this story, putting him in the position of having to trust would be interesting).**

**I getting a list of (essentially useless, vapid) people that I want at Milah's wedding (if you have any suggestions, let me know). It's turning into a bit of a circus, so I figured I'm needing more clowns. thx txm**

_Next: Gold makes some changes _

_Bae returns_


	35. Change

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 35**

**Change**

Gold woke up in a moderately darkened room on a moderately uncomfortable couch. He reached for Belle and it took him a moment to realize that she was not there. . . and where he was. . . and what he needed to do next.

Emma had slept in the hospital bed next to his couch-bed. . . too concerned to leave him alone. _Good girl there. Afraid he was going to off himself. . . or drop, snort, shoot, plop, huff, or just rub some illegal substance into his tummy . . . and fly off into Neverland. And there had been a time yesterday that he was ripe for that. . . he would have used anything. _

_But today. . . today was different. _

_Belle was alive._

_She was going to make it._

And now he had started on some things that he needed to do.

Emma was beginning to stir and she noted that Gold was already up. He had showered and changed.

Had he ever changed.

While Emma was still asleep, Gold had shaved and had dressed himself in fresh clothes (no doubt brought in by one of his concierge service people. No jeans and tee-shirt for him today. No casual Asheville look for him. No vacation relaxed fit for him. He had put on dress pants and a dress shirt with dress socks and the high-end Italian shoes he had worn when he first came to town. He had a matching suit jacket hung near the door with a bright silk handkerchief tucked into the chest pocket. There was a tie hanging on the jacket.

"Oh, you're awake," he noticed her stirring. "I took the liberty of having some fresh clothes brought in for the both of us. I'm going down for breakfast and then to the ICU for the 9:00 visiting time.

"You shaved," Emma observed, still half-asleep.

He gave her a tight smile and nodded, "I can see you're a trained observer." Then by way of explanation, he added, "I've got some business to attend to. I needed to clean up a bit." He had pulled the tie from the hanger and was threading it through his shirt collar, then expertly began knotting it.

"You've changed," Emma added, slowly taking things in.

"I have," he agreed, finishing the tie and settling it center.

Emma watched him. She had seen him depressed and lonely, angry and irritable. But this Gold was cold, distant.

_This was the man who took apart companies and bought towns and rearranged lives. This was the man who came out of poverty and rose to become one of the richest men in the world. This was the man rumored to be devoid of conscience, a heartless reptilian machine, an irresistible force of nature._

_What was he up to?_

Emma picked over the clothes he'd had delivered for her. _These were new. Even the underwear. _She looked them over. They were the right sizes.

When she looked over at him she saw that he'd been observing her. "I guessed at your sizes," he told her.

_Just a little creepy. _

Before she could protest, he explained, "It's part of a small thank you for your help with Belle and . . . for calling Bae. He should be here this evening."

"Listen, I don't expect any. . ." she began.

He stopped her, putting his hand on her arm. She nearly pulled back from the man; there was an uncomfortable sense of intimacy that had not been there before. . . _the man had bought her underwear. _She could _feel _his presence, as if waves of power were emanating from him.

_This was not the man she had argued with over who would get to drive or had chastised for running off from her at Walmart or had taken out to a restaurant attached to a gas station for a meal served on Styrofoam plates._

_This was one of the most powerful men in the world, powerful not just due to his wealth, but powerful because of his persuasive talents, his abilities to get any and every deal he might want, any deal. . .and on terms that favored himself._

"I would very much like it if you would accept these small tokens of my appreciation, as a thank you. Now, if you will hurry, I will also treat you to breakfast," he told her, stepping out of her way and motioning her towards the bathroom. She numbly went by him carrying the new clothes.

"And put on some makeup, a little mascara and lipstick, if you will. I believe we had this conversation before. I do have standards that I am expected to uphold."

Emma struggled to make some sort of smart-ass response but came up short. She washed her face and swathed under her armpits. There was a Lady Speed Stick which she assumed was for her sitting on the bathroom counter. There was also some makeup _Jeez, had he told the concierge exactly what to pick up or had he just given the person some general directions – get some clothes and makeup for a woman in her late twenties, size six, blonde._

She had gotten the underwear pulled on (nice, basic neutral-toned plain undies and a pull-on sports bra _thank god it wasn't something lacy and sexy, like some of the stuff he'd gotten for Belle_), blue jeans and finally a red tank top. She wondered if he'd asked specifically for the red top.

"I'm hungry," he rapped on the door. "I hope you're not dawdling."

"I'm hurrying, for Pete's sake," she shouted out at him. "You want me to doll up, you're gonna have to wait for it." She struggled with the mascara _not the easiest thing to put on when you were still dead tired_. When she pulled out the lipstick, she stopped.

She came out of the bathroom. "I'm not wearing this lipstick."

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"It's red, really red."

"Yes, I told them to get you a nice red lipstick. I'd like to see you in a red lipstick."

"Well screw you. I don't wear red lipstick. I don't wear lipstick," she protested.

She watched him. He had narrowed his eyes.

"Comb your hair, dearie."

_He was dropping it?! He never dropped anything. _

She carefully considered. Under his unrelenting scrutiny, she quickly dragged the comb through her hair, yanking on tangles.

Then, she dabbed on the red lipstick. _She just wasn't sure if he was going to make this into a big deal. She knew she didn't want to confront any form of vengeance that he might put forth if she ticked him off. _

_She was a little scared of him at the moment. _

He looked her over. She caught his little superior smirk of condescension.

"Excellent, my dear. You look lovely," he held out his arm to her and she took it.

_Arrogant son of a bitch_.

They went through the cafeteria line at the hospital and Gold paid for their food.

Emma was watching, noting how many people at the hospital seemed to know Gold.

"All right. I'm still puzzling over how you got that fancy, private freakin' hospital room when you're not even a patient . . . and now everybody here seems to be falling over themselves to make sure everything is up to your standards."

He contemplated his pretty breakfast companion for a moment. "They know who I am," he finally answered. "Somehow they've come to believe that if I'm happy with the treatment that Belle gets and if they treat me like a king, they think there might be a generous contribution in it for the hospital. So, they've rolled out the red carpet."

"Sweet," Emma told him. She looked at him. Yesterday he'd looked ten years older than he did today. There might be a few more lines around his eyes but today the eyes were clear and the gaze bright and steady. His voice was unfaltering and his hands didn't tremble.

Suddenly she realized he was watching her. Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes and turned her attention back to her food.

"I'm not in crisis any more Emma. I appreciate you standing by me when I was," he told her in a low voice. "I could have gone over, very easily. It was about as low as I've been in . . . in a while." He reached over and took her hand, briefly giving it a squeeze. "I recognize loyalty when I see it and I now know unequivocally that I can trust you to watch my back. That knowledge is very, very valuable to me. It can take years to find that out about a person."

Emma was embarrassed. "Just doing my job. And I didn't want my best friend's beau to kill someone and have to face charges and it would be such a mess. I didn't want you to get into trouble. Belle wouldn't have liked it. And," she added after a brief moment, "I, especially, didn't want you to kill yourself. Belle really wouldn't have liked that."

"You're right. Absolutely right. I kept thinking 'what would Belle think?' 'what would Belle do?' And that kept me going. Now my dear, you must tell me. Do you have an air-tight case against Facilier?"

"God, I hope so. We've got him on attempted murder with Belle and the drug charges. We're gathering what is likely a literal ton of additional evidence from other places and will be proceeding to a Grand Jury in short order."

Gold took a bite of his food and sat quietly a moment, "I know . . . sometimes. . . legal cases don't go as we might expect them to. There are . . . technicalities, small details that undermine the bigger case. The fine points of the law will sometimes trip people up. Facilier will have some high powered attorneys to defend him against whomever you put up to take him down."

"Yeah, I'm expecting that. But we've got a trail of evidence coming from several sources. It's taken us a couple of years to get it all together. I mean, I've been on the case here for nearly a year and I'm just a small cog."

Gold stirred his coffee (although he had put neither cream nor sugar into it). "I want to help."

Emma sat a moment. She knew he was an accomplished attorney, but his fields were real estate, contracts and business finances, not criminal. Finally she asked, "Doing what?"

Gold continued to stir his coffee. "Emma, twenty-five years ago I would have taken Facilier out myself." He held up his hand with his fingers mimicking a gun and cocked his fingers. "Twenty years ago I would have had someone else take him out." He continued stirring his coffee. "Fifteen years ago, I would have 'suggested' to someone that it would perhaps be nice if something happened to Facilier and they would have made the arrangements."

"Eh, Bobby, remember, I'm an officer of the court," Emma told him.

"Oh, I'm not saying I ever actually did anything like this," he gave her a quick smile. "I'm just telling you what I would have done if I were in this position with Facilier having taken a shot at the woman I love and almost killing her, this position I'm in now, if this were years ago."

"So where are you with this position now?" Emma asked warily.

"About ten years ago, I realized that there were other things you could do to bring a person down besides kill them. You take away whatever is most important to them. For some, it is their family, their friends. For a few, it is their reputation. For men like Facilier, it is his money and his power. I understand Facilier very well. We are a lot alike, except I don't, I never have, taken shots at the innocent."

"So what might you do?" Emma asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"Well for someone with his connections, prison simply moves his base of operations. He has to depend on his support staff, but he has money enough to pay them well, so things continue on just. as. before. He still has power and can reach out and get done whatever he wants done. Even if you get a guilty verdict and a thirty year sentence, it won't stop him. And I want to stop him."

"So you would. . . ?"

"I would take his money. I would take his power. I would remove his supports. I would render him helpless without any way to control the behavior and actions of others. He controls many through fear and I would render him impotent, helpless, ineffective . . . completely powerless."

Emma shook her head, "And how would you go about doing that?"

"I'd cut off his bank accounts, most of which are almost certainly off-shore. I would close on his property, buy it out from under him, rezone his property, raise his rent. I would scare off or buy off or undercut his suppliers and his dealers. I would dig up every bit of dirt I could and smear it all over the evening news. I would make him the most hated man in America, putting his trial on television. By the time I was finished with him, he wouldn't have a dime, he wouldn't be able to borrow a dime, he wouldn't be able to steal a dime, he wouldn't be able to hold on to someone else's dime while they took a piss!"

The man's eyes had darkened, the pupils enlarged, the strong emotion visibly evident._ This is probably what he looks like this when he's at his most intimate with Belle, Emma thought irreverently and she suppressed a shudder_. His voice was hard and had dropped to a harsh whisper. She thought about what he had said a moment. "As long as you don't engage in anything illegal, I'm not going to try to stop you," she finally whispered back to him.

He pulled back and slowly smiled at her. "My estimation of you continues to rise, Miss Swan." He took a sip of his coffee, "There may be a little more I can offer you, Emma. What would be your response if I told you I could give you something that would clinch putting Facilier away for a very, very long time, perhaps forever?"

Emma was suspicious. "What do you have?"

"Lawrence."

Emma was momentarily confused, then she remembered, "The henchman. That explains what happened to him. Mary Margaret gave us an address. We went out to the house but he was gone."

"I got there before you."

"We assumed he had escaped and had high-tailed it out of the area."

"Well, in a manner of speaking. I have him stashed somewhere. He's safe and secure and . . . he's doing a lot of sharing right now, maybe some of it's even the truth. Lawrence used to do the books for Facilier – very dumb move, letting your bookkeeper out of your sight and not having anything lethal to hold over his head. Lawrence would be willing to talk, if we needed him to. I have promised him safe passage out of the country and a little stipend. If he does a good job, he gets to pick where he goes – some little Greek island, some place nice in Figi, some place in the Swiss Alps. I could probably get him to talk with a federal prosecutor if you think it would help."

"Wow, so he's like an ace in the hole?" Emma asked.

"I suppose the analogy if fitting. But I don't gamble, Miss Swan. There is always that chance I might lose."

"I'll talk with the prosecutor," Emma promised him.

They had finished their breakfasts and Gold headed back to the ICU waiting room.

Belle was almost awake when he was allowed in to see her.

"Bobby!" she was able to murmur. He smiled.

She still looked weak and wan, her normal pearlescent coloring now appearing sallow due to an unnatural pallor coming through under her skin. She had been given several pints of blood during the surgery. Under James's urging, many from the police department and city government had given blood and, also, Ruby had started advertising a blood drive – the blood mobile was now parked in front of the shop and many of the people keeping vigil were donating. Many of Belle's best friends were in the same position as Gold and had histories, some recent histories, some current, of drug addiction and they weren't allowed to give. But enough were clean and more than willing to help out however they could. Giving blood was something they could feel good about doing - a real, genuine gesture of helping someone with no thought for themselves.

"Belle," he told her, putting his hand gently on her forehead and taking one of her hands (avoiding the IV lines) in the other. "You look beautiful." _She did to him. She was alive. She was breathing. She was smiling at him._

"You liar, I look terrible," she contradicted him. "Bobby, I love you," she managed to rasp out.

"And I love you too," he promptly responded. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"What day is it?" she asked him, her eyelids beginning to droop.

"It's early Sunday morning. You were. . . shot very early Saturday morning. It's been a little more than twenty-four hours."

"You shaved," she suddenly became aware of his cleaned cheeks.

"And put on a suit," he agreed with her. "I have some business I need to take care of."

"Is your vacation over?"

"Not exactly. I have a couple more days, but there are some things that need my attention."

"And you have to shave and wear a suit?" She had her eyes closed and was talking slowly.

"I do my best work that way," he responded.

"You look really nice," she gave a short giggle. "Did I tell you I love you?"

"You did. Did you hear that I love you?"

"I did. But I won't remember this conversation in about ten minutes. They've got me on some stupey drugs so my chest doesn't hurt so much."

He looked up at the bags of drugs they had hanging around her and were pumping into her, looking them over with the practiced eye of a user. _Yes, she was getting some good stuff, stupey drugs for sure. Would give her the memory span of a gnat. But should make her comfortable._

"You're going to be fine, Belle. It will take you a little while, but you're going to be fine. Miss Ruby is taking care of the bookstore. I'm going to take care of all your bills."

"And I didn't want you spending money on me," she managed to tell him.

"We'll work things out later. I don't want you to worry about anything." He squeezed her hand and, capitulating to the nurse who was signaling him that time was up, he stepped out from the unit.

"She is going to be all right?" he asked the nurse who had been attending her.

"We always have to watch out for secondary infection, of course, but the damage has been repaired and she is starting to heal. She will need to stay very quiet, no excitement for quite a while."

"Any ideas of when will she be out of ICU and into a regular room?" he asked.

"Her doctor will have to tell you that, but I think it will be soon if nothing changes," the nurse was evasive.

Gold understood. Dr. Whale was the only one who would make that decision. He shook his head, "I'm hoping she'll be out of here by Wednesday."

"Wednesday?"

"Wednesday is when my ex-wife is getting remarried – live on television."

The nurse's eyes lit up. "Milah, Marvelous Milah?" she asked.

"I take it you know her?"

"Of her. She's a piece of work, if you don't mind me saying so," the nurse apologized as soon as she spoke.

"She's a piece of something," Gold agreed. "I think Belle would like to watch the wedding. She and Milah have developed a. . .a . . . a relationship." _What else could he call it?_

The nurse raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I know," he told the nurse. "My ex-wife and my girlfriend. It's everything you think it is." He smiled and went on out to the waiting room to give her friends an update. Emma and Mary Margaret were sitting in the ICU waiting room awaiting word.

"Belle's seems to be getting better and stronger. Would you and Emma want to see her this afternoon? I think she'd like to see you both," he said to Mary Margaret. "She's only tolerating visitors for about ten minutes so you both may be able to swing a quick visit."

The two women looked at each other.

"Sure, but Bobby, we'd like to ask you something," Mary Margaret began tenuously.

"You're telling people that Belle is your fiancée. Have you actually asked the woman to marry you?" Emma went right to the heart of the matter.

He sat silently a moment and that answered the question.

"You just got around to telling her you love her, isn't that right?" Mary Margaret pursued the issue.

Again he didn't answer right away.

"Oh shit, Bobby," Emma was shaking her head and turned away from him.

"Bobby, we've known Belle a long time," Mary Margaret began. "She's the kind of woman who's going to want a real proposal. Candlelight, white linen cloth, champagne, you down on one knee. . ."

"With a little blue box," finished Emma.

"She's not going to be happy that you just made the assumption that she would marry you just because you decided it would be a good idea," Mary Margaret continued with the lecture.

"Of course she'll be in agreement. I know she will," Gold told the two confidently. _He didn't understand why Belle felt as she did, but he did feel confident of her feelings for him._

The two women looked at each other.

"For a very smart man. . . " began Mary Margaret.

"You can be kinda stupid," Emma finished.

"You can't just tell her you love her one day and assume she'll marry you the next!" Mary Margaret told him, with a touch of exasperation. "You've started telling people you're engaged and now you figure that everything's going to fall into place. Oh honey, you are so cruisin' for a bruisin'. Belle is Miss Independent. No one decides Belle's fate, but Belle. You're going to make her mad," she warned him.

"She knows how I feel about her," he decided. He considered. "I'll go ahead and propose to her immediately."

He didn't wait for the women to respond. He began to make plans.

"I need to get a ring ordered. . ." he was on a roll. "And a pre-nup, she's going to insist on a pre-nup. I know she won't want people to think she's marrying me for my money. I'll draw up a draft personally." Gold had gotten up and was heading out the door to go back to 'his' hospital room. "I need to make some calls."

He stopped and turned around. "What kind of engagement diamond do you think she'd like? I don't see her as 'the biggest stone possible' type of woman. She's going to want something elegant and beautiful, delicate, maybe with some clear sapphires along the side to match her eyes, maybe some little pearls to match her skin. I'm thinking something art deco style. Mary Margaret, you come with me. We're going on-line to look at some rings. I want something with an antique feel, something unique. You can help me with your ideas and then I'll call a designer I've worked with at Tiffany's."

Mary Margaret was sitting open-mouthed. Emma punched her. "Go with the man. Help him pick out a ring. Try to talk some sense into him. I'm going into the office and get some more paperwork done on this case. Shouldn't be too awfully busy on a Sunday. I'll be back for the afternoon visiting hours."

Mary Margaret meekly followed Gold while he talked of different options.

As they entered into his room, she couldn't stop herself from putting her hand on his arm. "Bobby, listen to me. You are moving too fast. I mean, you just got around to telling her that you loved her and I'm not 100 per cent sure that it's registered with her yet – I haven't seen her, but I imagine she's pretty doped up still."

Gold was genuinely puzzled. "But I love her. And she loves me. It's one of the few things I am sure of. I don't ever want to be separated from her. She feels the same way about me, I know she does. We've talked a couple of times about having children together. I've always figured she'd prefer to get married rather than just continuing to . . . shack up."

"Oh Bobby," Mary Margaret shook her head. "Emma's right, for a smart, clever man, sometimes, you can be stupid. Remember that Belle wants honesty. She wants respect. She won't appreciate you making decisions for her, not a decision this important." Mark Margaret paused, "And you listen to me, right now, she's very, very sick. She's weak, she lacks stamina. She's not in any state to put up with any of your foolishness. She needs your support and she should not have to deal with any pressure or make any major life decisions right now. Are you hearing me?" Mary Margaret was talking to him like he was an errant child.

Gold sat down, "Are you going to help me pick out some engagement ring designs or not?"

He was looking down at the computer screen that was set up before him. To Mary Margaret he reminded her of one of Belle's cats when they had been hit with a spray of water, all frizzed up and fiercely angry. He looked like he could chew nails. He hadn't wanted to hear what she had told him. He didn't like to hear things that contradicted his view of the world. She didn't know if what she had said had registered or not.

He huffed and repeated, "Can we go ahead and look at rings? You have good tastes and you know Belle. I'm going to propose and I'll need a ring." He managed to sound defiant.

Mary Margaret smiled at him. "I'll look at rings with you."

000000000

Bae and Hopper came in together during the late afternoon and connected with Gold in the posh hospital room he'd been assigned to. Bae simply hugged his dad and sat down with him. Archie followed suit and also sat down. They waited.

"She's come through surgery all right and the prognosis is good, but it's going to take a while." Gold finally shared with them.

"How are you doing?" Bae asked.

"At first, it was pretty rough. What you think," Gold made eye contact with his son and gave him a tight smile. "I made it through with help from my friends, especially Emma, a phone call to Hopper," he nodded at the doctor, "and finding out that Belle had made it through surgery."

Hopper looked at his patient. "I thought you had gone native. Bae was telling me that you were dressing in jeans and had grown a beard. I was looking forward to seeing that side of you."

"Yeah," Gold said, "I changed back this morning and shaved."

"You're going after Facilier," Bae didn't say this as a question.

Gold didn't answer immediately. "I have some business to take care of. The first thing on my plate is the official announcement Monday about the merger."

"Dad, can I take over the announcement?" Bae offered.

"I'd like you on standby. I've made some arrangements to do it at a local affiliate. But if Belle takes a bad turn. . . " Gold didn't finish.

"Happy to help, dad, but certainly hope you won't need me," Bae offered his support.

"I'd like to meet some of these new friends you've made, Bobby," Hopper told him. "Sounds like they're wonderful people."

"They are," Gold said, realizing that they were wonderful. . . and his friends. . . something that still astonished him.

Emma came into the room at that time.

"Sorry, if I'm intruding. . ." her voice trailed off when she saw Bae.

Bae immediately stood up and Emma's eyes went to his.

"Miss Swan, you are looking . . . wonderful. I mean, I know. . . I. . . I know you've been through a difficult time, but you, but you. . . look great," he stammered out.

Emma smiled at him, "Thanks, your dad's been badgering me to comb my hair and put on some makeup."

Gold noted with satisfaction that the pretty blond was still wearing a hint of the red lipstick. He thought it lit up her face and gave her an air of femininity – something he felt that she often seemed to be trying to squelch, to diminish in herself, as if she felt being a woman somehow worked against her in her job, in her life, in keeping her independence.

"You look great," Bae repeated.

It amused Gold watching his son and Emma. They both clearly had strong feelings for each other. Bae, who was usually focused, calm and self-possessed, stood stammering like a school boy. And Emma, so independent, so in-charge and sure of herself, blushing, looking down at her feet, like an inexperienced teenager in her first crush. _They were perfect for each other. _He thought it was well passed the time for his son to settle down and Emma had his complete approval – well, except for her dangerous job.

Maybe he could fix that.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Accompanied by Gold and Dr. Hopper, Emma (with Bae in tow) went down to the ICU waiting room to meet up with Mary Margaret. Gold introduced Mary Margaret to Dr. Hopper. He was obviously taken with the gracious brunette and chatted easily with her. Gold was not a chatter and always somewhat envied that skill. Mary Margaret didn't seem uncomfortable with Hopper being a psychiatrist and was asking him where he was staying and suggesting restaurants, like any good Asheville native would.

Gold watched Emma. She seemed shy around his son, but happy to be near him.

For herself, Emma had had to struggle to pull herself together. She had not expected to react so strongly to seeing Bae again. She had filed her relationship with him away in her "it was fun while it lasted, but it's over" file.

Apparently it was not over.

_Why did he make her feel the way he did? – she had wanted nothing more than to sit and gaze into his eyes, and chew on his lips and lick her way down his body. She felt like she barely knew the man but, at the same time, she felt like she'd known him forever_.

Emma had just about pulled herself completely together before she got into see Belle.

"Hi girl," Emma managed to get out looking at her old friend closely. Belle's eyes were still dull and her movements torpid. "You're not looking so bad," Emma told her, putting on a brave face. "Your color's good. Are you getting some energy back?"

"I think so," Belle's speech was still slurry. "I've had a lot of blood pumped into me and I really began feeling better after that last six-pack. I still nap a lot though," Belle told her. "How's Bobby doing? He comes in here and holds my hand. I may have dreamed that he shaved and put on a suit?"

"That was no dream. He looks like Mr. Gold or, what did we used to call him? Mr. Cash? again," Emma told her. "He's cranking up for that Cricket announcement tomorrow, I know."

"I was afraid he was going to go after Facilier," Belle told her.

"I think he's got some plans there," Emma confirmed. "I'm making sure he stays within the law."

"Thanks, Emma. I worry that he'll go off all mad-headed and get crazy on us."

"He might do that but I think he's afraid you'll be mad at him if he does and he doesn't want you mad at him," shared Emma. "I'm gonna bring Mary Margaret in now."

Belle squeezed her hand and Emma exchanged places with Mary Margaret who also managed a five minute visit.

When Mary Margaret came out, she was shaking her head, "She seems to be in great spirits. I think she was in a lot of pain but she was almost talkative. She wanted to find out how _I_ was doing. She was also asking a lot of questions about how _you_," Mary Margaret looked at Gold, "were doing. I think she believes you may be up to something illegal and she doesn't want that."

"I hope you reassured her that I am on the up and up?" he asked.

"I did, but . . ."

"But what?" he asked.

"She's not convinced. She's figuring no one is going to tell her the truth in her delicate condition."

"Well, what can I say?" Gold asked. "There's a lot of truth in that. But," he looked Mary Margaret in the eye, "please continue to assure Belle that I am not lifting a hand against Facilier."

Emma looked at him closely but she didn't say anything, too quickly distracted by Bae who was pulling her off for a quiet conference in a corner of the room. Bae had then sidled over to this father to let him know that Emma had agreed to let him take her out this evening.

"I was hoping you wouldn't mind. I know Emma's been standing by you and I hate to take her away from you," Bae told him.

"Bae, I think it's great for you and Emma to go out together. Go and show the woman a good time with my blessing," his father reassured him.

Bae grinned at him, "A good time, you say?"

Gold shooed the two out of them out of the waiting room.

Mary Margaret soon followed, with a promise to return Monday afternoon. She made Gold promise to call her if there were any changes in Belle and if there was anything she could pick up for him.

Gold was left alone with the psychiatrist and the two men rode the elevator back to Gold's room.

"You wanna do a blood test, a urine test, a Rorschach, an MMPI, what?" Gold asked him.

"Nah, I thought we'd just talk awhile."

"I'd rather just pee in a cup for you," Gold admitted honestly.

"That would be easier for you, I'm sure. You look a little rough around the edges. It's been difficult, I can tell."

"You don't know the half of it. When I saw that bastard turn, raise his gun and shoot Belle, I thought my life was over. I got to him with a gun and was this close to taking him out."

"But you didn't."

"No, I could have. But I didn't," Gold admitted.

"Why not?"

Gold grimaced, "I guess I didn't want to kill someone. I didn't have to think about it, I knew Belle wouldn't approve if there were any other way."

"And thinking about Belle got you through your latest crises," Hopper confirmed.

"That and Emma. You should hire her. She kept tabs on me like a head nurse of one of your facilities. She doled out the Xanax on schedule and wouldn't let me talk her into giving me anymore, even though I thought I was being pretty persuasive."

"I like her. I take it there is something between her and your son?" Hopper was quick.

"I hope so. I'm doing everything I can to encourage it."

"She must be exceptional," Hopper said. "Now, tell me about Belle."

Gold began slowly. How she offered him coffee that first morning. He admitted his having crude, lewd thoughts regarding her person early on but then that soon changed. She was so honest and forthright and he found himself doing and saying things out of character, actually thinking about how his behavior might impact on other people. And she was so beautiful. He had never thought anyone as beautiful as she was could actually care about someone as. . . as ugly as he thought of himself. He admitted that he had been too cowardly to confess his feelings. It had taken him awhile to get to the point that he really thought she cared about him. She had told him she loved him. He didn't think she was after his money, although certainly others had suggested that. She had told him she loved him. He thought, he had dared to think, that she might want to marry him. But her friends had said to give her a little time. She had told him she loved him. He didn't know what to do.

"Give her a little time," counseled Hopper. "And what are your real plans regarding this Dr. Facilier who shot Belle?" Hopper asked him.

"I'm going to ruin him," Gold responded flatly.

"Would Belle approve of revenge? Wouldn't she want the courts to take action against him and not Robert Spinner?" Hopper asked.

"I'm not going to do anything myself. I am just going to make sure that every dismal, dark deed the man has ever done comes to light and others will take care of things. I don't have to do anything. I'm just going to call some things up. I just have to encourage the right people to dig in the right places. I'm not putting a hit out on the man. I'm not making up stuff."

"You're just trying to get justice?"

"I assure you. I'm not lifting a hand against the man. I just want what he's done to come out."

"And all you are doing are making phone calls?" Hopper confirmed.

"And I may have broken a guy's fingers," Gold murmured in a voice so low that Hopper barely heard him.

Hopper was surprised and made no response.

"I was convincing him that I would be a much better employer than Facilier. He took some convincing."

"All right," Hopper replied neutrally.

"He'll be fine. I arranged for medical treatment and he's in a safe place now."

Hopper shook his head. He still had difficulties treating this powerful client who often seemed to march to his own moral drummer. Hopper said slowly, "Now, I've not met your Miss Belle. She does sound remarkable. I'm not sure how she'll take this 'I'm not raising a hand against Facilier. I'm just calling up some old demons to do the job for me.' You think she'll be all right with that?"

Gold narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "When you put it that way, no. She'll claim I parsed words and twisted them around to my advantage."

Gold sat quietly for a moment and continued, "I can't let Facilier get away with what he did, Archie. It's not my way. I will tell you that every fiber in my being wants to take deep personal revenge, the most horrible things I can think of and I'm pretty imaginative in this arena. But I'm not killing him or having him killed, because I know Belle would not approve. But I can't just sit and do nothing! I'm not made that way. I'm not a forgiving man. I'm not a good person. We both know that. I try and I try, but I can't just walk away from this."

Dr. Hopper didn't respond to Gold. He sat quietly with him. He knew Gold would have to make his own decision in this. And as long as he wasn't doing something illegal, Hopper was bound not to interfere.

It was a long moment before Gold rubbed his hands together. "Let me make a call and have some supper brought in. The restaurants around here know me and will make a delivery. Mediterranean, Italian, Mexican, vegetarian, steak and potatoes? What's your preference?"

_Later that evening, Gold slept soundly - for a change. True to his word to Emma, he had not smoked a single cigarette._

_Thirty Five days down, seven days to go._

**Thx to my awesome reviewers (who really help keep me going on this story): RoxyMoron, juju0268, cheesyteal'c, jewel415, TygTag, MyraValhallah, thedoctorsgirl42, RaFire, Grace5231973, Aletta-Feather, Lattelady, Just 2 Dream of You, Stargate533, CharmedRumbelle, DruidKitty, xanimejunkie, and AnEloquentFacade, **

**Guest: Gold is going to try to marry the girl (but typical of his tendency to make rather bone-headed decisions where his feelings and Belle are concerned he's going to trip over himself a couple of times) **

**Anon Anon Guest: Sorry about the word confusion. I do read. re-read and re-read each chapter but I probably let my self-imposed writing schedule pressure the self-editing process and I do find that things will slip through. The error(s?) were more reflective of typos than orthographic nescience (as I do know the difference), but I will try to be especially vigilant on this issue (my pet aggravation is confusion between you're and your). Thx txm**

_Next: Gold makes a proposal (of sorts)_

_Emma and Bae share_

_Emma takes Belle's official statement_


	36. Common Ground

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**CHAPTER 36**

**Common Ground**

Emma had talked Bae into accompanying her back to her apartment. _It was not a hard sell. _He had managed to awaken first and was now reclined in the bed simply looking at the beautiful woman who was lying next to him.

She had agreed to allow him to take the lead for part of the previous evening's entertainment; he had indulged himself with a leisurely, but thorough exploration of every curve, every dimple, every bit of softness that she possessed to their mutual satisfaction.

She stirred and he delicately began to kiss her shoulder. "Good morning," he whispered.

"Is it already?" she asked. She opened her eyes. "That was a great evening. . . and an even better night."

"Thank you. I would return the compliment."

She began to kiss him back, adding little nips to her actions.

"Do you? Do you think?" she asked between kisses, "Do you think we have anything in common besides really great sex?"

_God, I hope so. _"I guess we'll have to talk to find out."

"Later," she instructed him and pushed him over onto his back.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Gold had sent Hopper onto a hotel room at the Bohemian, just down the road from the hospital (the same facility hosting Milah and many of the wedding guests that were beginning to arrive). Emma had not returned and Gold hoped that Bae had convinced the little hellion to spend the night with him – again.

He showered and shaved and dressed in the second of three suits the concierge service had delivered. He had a couple of calls to make and had an appointment at the local affiliate to go ahead with his official announcement. He had originally planned to fly back to New York for the day but Belle's injury had put a stop to that.

He got breakfast by himself, fending off cute little nurses and miscellaneous adorable respiratory, physical and occupational therapists who all smiled and waved at him. When you had a lot of money you didn't have to eat by yourself unless you wanted to. _He had wanted to._

He got into the ICU to see Belle after breakfast. She was clearly more alert and responsive. There was almost a twinkle in her cornflower eyes.

"I love you, Bobby," she told him, first thing, smiling.

"And I love you, too," he answered, glad that today she seemed to be about a fourteen on the Glasgow Coma Scale.

"Dr. Whale tells me I'll be moving out into a regular room later today. He's very pleased with my progress and wants me to start exercising, which means I get to walk maybe up to ten paces. I'm still sleeping a lot but I think that's the medication," she was still smiling and her speech was slightly slurred. Gold quickly surmised that she had likely been popped something like lorazepam or even alprazolam to up her mood.

"Yeah, probably so," Gold agreed and then he hesitated. "Belle, I couldn't be happier to hear this news. To know that you're going to be all right. It's the best news we could have."

"But?" even doped up, mellowed out, and all copasetic, Belle could tell he was holding back something.

Gold took her hand, "You know I'm not supposed to say anything that might upset you, but I think it's better that you hear this from me."

Belle didn't respond, just waited expectantly. _She'd been through these soul-searing confessions from Gold before. She had begun to conceptualize these as tests of their love for each other, it was like peeling back another layer - you never knew what you would find. _

Gold began "I've been telling everyone that you're my fiancée. I just wanted to be sure that they would let me in to see you and I was afraid since I wasn't family that they might not."

"I don't see a problem with that," Belle told him.

"Well, it's kinda gotten out," he confessed. "The hospital staff all think we're engaged and they've told everyone they know. It's become pretty common knowledge. Well, they all know who you are and they. . . uh. . . they. . . uh. . . they know who I am."

Belle looked at him questioningly.

"It came out when I was helping with the financial end right after you were admitted. I signed to be responsible for all your bills." At Belle's beginning protest, he quickly added, "I just wanted to be sure that you were getting the very best possible care."

Belle closed her eyes. She understood.

Gold continued, "And I decided," he hesitated here before just jumping in, "that we should probably just go ahead and . . . uh. . . follow-up. We have a couple of options here. I could get a judge up here today or, if you want to do a whole wedding thing we could go ahead and set a date. If you want all that sort of ceremonial stuff I was thinking something in the fall should give us time to make whatever plans."

Belle swallowed and closed her eyes again, obviously trying to process what he had just told her. "Are you planning a wedding for us?"

Gratified that she had picked up so quickly on the issue, Gold continued, "Well, when you're better, I certainly would prefer that you pick up on the details," then he added, "That is, if you want something more than a judge or justice of the peace and a couple of friends. I'll be happy going along with whatever you want. These affairs definitely seem to be more for the female than the male, I think."

"So you've decided all this?" Belle spoke softly.

"Well, I think it's inevitable," he shrugged, so relieved that Belle had understood _but missing that she had not agreed to his proposed decision._

"Bobby, I love you very much," Belle began.

"And I love you." _Where was she going with this?_

"Darling, understand, please, I'm not ready for marriage with you."

Gold was stunned. "You don't want to get married?"

"Not under these circumstances. I'm not saying no, never. But I don't think that now . . . while I'm lying in an ICU bed . . . that it's a good time for me to make any important decisions. And marriage is such an important decision."

"So," he spoke slowly, "you don't want to get married," he repeated himself.

"Of course I want to get married – and to you. But the time has to be right."

"So are we even engaged?" he asked.

Belle closed her eyes one more time. "Bobby, I really don't have the strength to discuss this right now. But no, I don't think you telling people we're engaged makes us engaged."

Gold felt poleaxed. "All right," he managed to reply. He didn't want to press her. "All right," he repeated. He didn't want to risk losing what he had with her. "All right." If she was content with them just living together, he could be too. "All right," he said one more time.

But this wasn't what he wanted.

_But now, he didn't know what to do next._

OooooooooooooO

Bae had received a phone invitation from his father for lunch. When he came into the hospital room that had been given over for his father's use, Gold had set up what amounted to an office at the table by the window, complete with a computer and a mass of reports that one of his own people had brought in, reports from Lawrence. Reports that detailed where Facilier held his money, who Facilier had contact with, what property the man held, what debts he owed, what debts were owed to him.

Gold was methodically going through them.

When Bae came in the room, his father was on the phone.

"Mal, yes, dear, good of you to call me back. . . yes, it's been a bit difficult but it's getting better. . . yes. . . she's doing well. Thank you for asking. . . right. . . right. . . this afternoon at three. . . that's right. . . right. . . Well, what I was calling about was to see if you might be available for lunch tomorrow. . . I can meet you at Razazz's. . . yes . . . yes. . . yes, well, I knew you would be in town for the wedding coverage and I thought we could take care of another issue. . . No, I'd rather not, not on the phone. . . this is something rather delicate. . . no, I will tell you it's not an announcement regarding my engagement. . . promise, dear. . . Good. . . see you at one then, at the restaurant. . . excellent. . . bye, dear."

Bae listened to his father's end of the conversation and waited until his father hung up the phone.

"Were you talking with Malinda Scentz?" he asked.

"Yes, Mal and I have developed a . . . working relationship," his father told him.

Bae considered. He knew this woman had been merciless in her pursuit to vilify his father during the divorce, all to boost ratings. _What on earth could his father be working on with her now?_

Gold got up, collecting his phone, to accompany his son to lunch. "They have my number if anything changes with Belle."

"Dad, are you all right?" Bae immediately sensed that something was off with his dad. He'd seen his father focused on business before, but there was something else. It seemed like his father was a bead off center.

Gold hesitated. "I proposed to Belle."

Bae was surprised, considering the woman was lying in an ICU bed and the two had known each other for only a little over a month. He waited.

"She declined my offer."

Bae remained surprised. _Not many women would turn down one of the richest men in the world, especially when that man was his father, his very persuasive father._ "Dad I'm sorry. I . . . did she give you a reason?"

"Just that lying in ICU wasn't a good place to make such an important decision."

Bae considered but had to agree with the little shopkeeper. "Dad, I think she really cares about you but maybe, she's right and right now. . ."

"Yes, yes, she made perfectly good sense. But I just wasn't expecting it. Emma and Mary Margaret had both tried to tell me that it wasn't a good time, but I wouldn't listen to them."

"I think dad, that you should let her get out of ICU and try again. You two seem to be in love with each other. It's a matter of finding the right time and place," Bae advised.

Gold was shaking his head. As the two cleared the hospital and made their way to Gold's new Cadillac, Gold's phone rang. He looked at his son and mouthed, "Sorry," and answered it.

"Yes, Regina. Thanks for calling me back. . . You will think about it then? Excellent. I thought the offer might appeal to you. . . I can't promise you the salary you're making now, what do you charge 500 hundred an hour?. . . 600 hundred, definitely can't give you the salary, but it will probably be close. . . There's going to be more job security, shorter hours and you'll get stock options which will almost certainly make up the difference and probably push it over. . . uh huh, the new battery. . . Yeah, and you'll get to live here in Asheville if that holds any allure for you. . . Of course, think about it and get back to me when you decide."

He clicked the phone off.

"I'm going to suggest Fig Bistro," Gold told his son. "It's in the Village just down the road. I've not been there but I understand they have a pork schnitzel. Pig meat would hit the spot right now."

As they neared the car, Gold's phone rang again. He glanced at the number. A 504 area code. "I need to take this," he apologized again.

_Bae thought how much like old times this was – when his dad had a business deal going, something coming together, something going down – it was one phone call after another. _

Bae overheard his dad's side of the conversation, "Yes, Mama Odie, so good of you to call me back. Please tell me you are doing well. . . Yes. . . yes. . . yes. . . I was actually involved. . . Just by chance I promise you. . ." he laughed. "Very well, I know you don't believe in chance, perhaps you're right. . . Yes. . . yes. . . yes. . . I did think you would want to know. . . Of course. . . of course. . . No, you will not be having any interference from any of my people. You will have complete free range, and I'm hoping you'll be able to stop anyone else from coming in, get some real healing done for your people, clean up that community. . . Right. . . I just thought you'd appreciate knowing that I'm not playing in this game and that I wanted to send you a little check that might help things along for your side. . . Uh hum, should be enough to help out with that new facility. . . No ma'am, actually I don't play that game at all, any more. . . No, not at all. I'm in a much rougher game. Right. . . Real estate, stock market. . ." he laughed again. "Yes I should take care with whom I chose to associate . . . Yes, I will do that. . . Goodbye, dearie."

He shut his phone off and pocketed it.

"You seem busy," Bae observed. "Did I hear a job offer to Ms. Mills?

"You did?"

"Belle knows about your history with her and is ok with you making a job offer to the woman?"

"Belle knows . . . about the history. The job offer, well, she doesn't know about that, not yet." Gold paused, then added, "It wouldn't be like we'd be working together . . . often . . . and Belle knows that Regina and I don't have anything between us. Regina's too busy getting busy with Daniel."

"If you say so, dad. And that other call? To Mama Odie?"

"She's an amazing social worker who runs several drug treatment centers and half-way houses down in New Orleans. I own a couple of the buildings she uses. I thought this would be a good time for her to establish more of a presence in some of that territory. I know a little financial boost would really help her out. She's a good person, Belle would like her."

The two men got in the car and Gold drove on to the restaurant.

"How'd it go with Emma," Gold asked.

_Bae thought back. He and Emma had started talking. . . finally. _

"_What do we have in common?" he had asked. _

"_Dogs or cats?" she'd asked him._

"_Cats rule, dogs drool," he'd answered. _

"_I like dogs," she'd told him._

"_Read a lot?" he'd asked her. _

"_Weather alerts that scroll across the tv screen, and you?"_

"_Anything I can get my hands on."_

"_Automatic or stick?" she'd asked him, then._

"_Automatic," he'd told her._

"_I like stick," she'd responded and grinned, catching the double entendre._

"_Fried rice or steamed?" he'd asked her._

"_Fried," she'd answered._

"_Steamed," he told her._

"_Coke or Pepsi?"_

"_Coke."_

"_Pepsi."_

"_Beer or wine?"_

"_Beer."_

"_Wine."_

"_Sock and a sock and shoe and a shoe or sock and a shoe and sock and a shoe?"_

"_What?"_

"_Sock and a sock and shoe and a shoe or sock and a shoe and sock and a shoe?"_

"_Uh. . . sock and a sock."_

"_Sock and a shoe."_

_They lay together, dejected. _

"_Ok and this can be a relationship killer, should the toilet paper go off the back of the roll or hang down in front?" Emma asked him._

"_Front," he'd said._

"_Front!" she'd said._

_Finally._

_Bae changed tactics "Where'd you go to school?"_

"_I ended up at Quantico," she told him._

"_The FBI Academy? Why aren't you FBI? How did you end up in ATF?"_

"_Wanted more field work, more police action."_

"_Have you always wanted to be in law enforcement?"_

"_Yup, now, how about you?"_

"_Well" he had begun. "And I am answering where I went to school. This is the long answer. As you know, I grew up with my parents."_

_Emma winced._

"_Yeah, it was pretty bad," he'd had to agree. "They had some epic fights. My dad could get pretty mean and my mom, well, she was able to dish it out as well as he could. When I was younger, I think they would mostly fight and screw, but later all they did was fight. I kinda threw myself into my books and my studies. When I had an opportunity to move out at fourteen, I jumped for it."_

"_Where'd you go at fourteen?"_

"_I got accepted at Cal Tech."_

"_At fourteen?!"_

"_Sounds good, but I assure you, I wasn't the youngest or the smartest kid there."_

"_So after you graduated?"_

"_I worked for a few computer companies and then started my own little company."_

"_Is it a company I might have heard of?" Emma pursued warily._

"_Maybe. I own Vortex Manhattan."_

"_Vortex?! The company that does all kinds of computer programs, games and stuff?" Emma asked. "That's a huge company!" Emma was impressed._

"_Not as big as anything of my dad's and not ever likely to be. Of course, now he's pulling me back into his businesses. It's a lot of real estate and investments. I was the one that found Cricket and I sent them to my dad to get some real funding for their battery. Now, you tell me about your family."_

_Emma became very serious, "I don't have a family. I grew up a ward of the state."_

"_Really, so there's _no _family?" Bae was saddened by this news and hurt for her._

"_Nope. Haven't been able to find any and, after a while, I quit looking," Emma was cavalier and shrugged after relaying the information._

"_Wow, Emma, that's serious."_

"_Yeah." They had lain a little while longer together before Bae observed, "That toilet paper thing – I think that clinches it. We're totally compatible."_

"_Yeah¸it looks like we just might be," Emma had agreed._

"Nice, it went nicely," Bae answered his dad's question about how things had gone with Emma.

Gold then dropped a bomb on Bae, "You were planning on going to your mother's wedding Wednesday?"

"Oh yeah," Bae admitted.

"Good. I need you to walk her down the aisle," his dad gave him a slight smile.

"Dad?!"

"She'd asked me to and I really, really didn't want to. For so many reasons, I really, really didn't want to. Now with Belle being in the hospital I have an unassailable reason not to be at the damned affair. Your mother will need you to take my place."

Bae sighed. He loved his parents, as difficult and as demanding as they both were. He didn't see anyway out of this. By walking his mother down the aisle, he would be doing both of them a favor. He looked his father in the eye, "Ok, dad, I'll do this, but I think you will owe me."

"Done," his father agreed. Then Gold looked at him. "And thank you."

Bae opted to stay with his father while they went to the news affiliate and with a mutual feed from New York and Leroy representing Cricket, the two made a short announcement of the merger of the Cricket with Rumii. (Gold felt his phone vibrate right before he started talking but wasn't in a position to check for the message.) Gold and Leroy shared that they had elected to change the name of the newly merged subsidiary from Cricket to Magicell and the new super battery for cell phones was expected to be on the market within six months, perhaps earlier. A single factory had already been started up and there were plans for several more on the drawing board. There was active research for a variety of other batteries being developed. There were a few questions regarding costs and then more questions as to how people could get on the list to get one of the batteries as soon as possible.

_There, _thought Gold, _that should result in a thirty second piece on CNN, MSNBC, Bloomberg, CNBC, John Stewart, and, if it were a slow news night, perhaps even on the major networks. He knew the news was hitting the internet, the tweeter thingy and whatever else that Bae had helped develop for his generation of people that didn't watch the nightly news._

Gold checked the text that had come in right after the broadcast taping. He looked up at Bae.

"What is it, dad? Is something wrong with Belle?"

"No, they are moving her out of ICU into the regular room. I'm heading back to the hospital.

0o0oo00oo000oo00oo0o0

Emma had prepared to go right in to see Belle but when she got to ICU she was told that Belle had been moved to the room Gold was using. She vaulted up the stairs and found Belle, sitting with the hospital bed raised up and relaxing, watching television.

"Do you know I'm not finding anything on tv that I'm interested in watching, except maybe this shopping channel," she told Emma as she came into the room. "They got some cool dishes that you can cook in, and serve in and store in the fridge. And they're pretty."

"You think daytime tv is a wasteland?" Emma asked, "Wait, if you're up passed prime time. Late night tv is even worse."

Belle managed a weak laugh and turned off the set. "Emma! You look. . . refreshed. Something different happening?"

"Bae's in town," Emma told her. "We're back keeping company."

"I wonder if we want to compare notes, father and son," Belle then shook her head. "Probably not. Eeuu, I'm sorry, that's the medication. I have no filters."

"Eeuu, is right. I'm really not interested in finding out how Bobby is in the sack," Emma confirmed for her. Emma sat down and took out a small top-bound notebook. "Belle, now that you're out of ICU, I am interested in getting your version of what happened after Facilier took you away from us. Do you feel up for telling me about it?"

"Sure," Belle seemed very relaxed and she began, "I told him we needed to get gas and he asked where a station was. I asked what direction we were going and he said the Blue Ridge Parkway. I don't think he had any idea of what the Parkway is. I think he was thinking it was a super-highway, not a scenic highway. Anyway, I took him down to that little station on the Brevard Road right before the entrance ramp. . . "

"Yeah, then what happened?"

"I knew I needed to play for time. I still don't understand how you found us so fast."

"Bobby had put a GPS tracking device in the Saturn. He'd been afraid it would break down in the boonies and whoever was driving it wouldn't be able to let help know where they were."

"I didn't know about that," Belle was surprised. "I would have been a lot calmer if I'd known."

"I didn't know about it either until you had pulled out of the garage."

Belle shook her head, "Well, anyway, my thought was trying to slow us down so people would have a better chance of finding us. The only idea I could come up with was having him put the fuel injector stuff into the car."

"But most of those had water in them!" Emma was confused. "You always had us clean them out and leave some water in. I know that later, when we had enough, we'd take 'em and dump the water at the we-recycle-water car wash place and then we'd recycle the plastic containers."

"Right, as you said, those containers were filled with mostly water and an internal combustion engine won't run on water," Belle gave her a smug smile. "Water's heavier than gas and enough water will completely choke a car down. I got him to put about one and half gallons of water into the gas tank. I was surprised we made it as far as the rest area."

"Water into the gas tank! Damn, that was smart. I'd've been be trying to put sugar into the gas tank."

Belle shook her head, "You know that won't work. It's a myth."

"And you had the presence of mind to remember that. Girl, you're impressive."

"I was ascared," Belle told her. "But I was trying to do the brave thing."

"You weren't too scared to think. Then what happened?"

"He got on his phone and started making calls. He didn't connect with the first person he'd tried to reach and, I know he made several calls before he did get somebody and then he asked me where we were. He hadn't been paying attention and it was really dark. I figured he was getting another car from some of his people, so I told him the wrong overlook and sent them to the Folk Art Center down the road. More delaying tactics." Belle took a deep breath and winced as it seemed to hurt her chest. "When Daniel drove up, I was so relieved and figured this would be my best chance to get away with Daniel distracting him." Belle looked very sad, as if she might cry. "I guess I was wrong."

Emma took her friend's hand. "No Belle, you were incredibly brave and incredibly smart. Facilier's a criminal. You're not responsible for his behavior. You got away from him alive, a bit scathed, maybe, but alive. And he's going to jail. . . for a long, long time."

"I'll have to testify, won't I?"

"Probably, the attempted murder charge is one of the big ones against him right now."

Belle leaned back. "Emma, please tell me. How is Bobby handling this? He keeps telling me that he's not going to raise a hand against Facilier, but that doesn't sound like him. I mean, if he's not going to do it, he's going to get someone else to go after him."

Emma considered, "Belle, as long as Bobby isn't trying to have the man dismembered or killed, as long as he isn't making up stuff about the man, would it be so wrong to have him try to help the judicial system put Facilier away?"

Belle sat for a moment. "Emma, I know I'm on a lot of medication, but it sounds like you're ok with what he's up to?"

Emma was careful in answering, "I think, Belle, that Bobby is really trying to use every bit of leverage he can against the man, without crossing the line between legal and not-legal."

Belle leaned back again and closed her eyes. "Emma, I'm not naïve. I know that Bobby has been involved in some seriously illegal stuff, but. . . and here's where I may be trusting too much. . . he keeps assuring me that all this was a long time ago, a very long time ago. But I know he pushes the limit. I confess I did go and check him out when we first started seeing each other. He was so dark. . . and exciting. I'd never met anyone like him. I felt like I was the brainy girl with glasses who was suddenly dating the leader of a motorcycle gang. I was so flattered that he would pay attention to me."

"He tells me that he can't wrap his head around anyone as beautiful as you being attracted to him," Emma told her.

Belle laughed, "I guess we're both a little bit damaged. But I was telling you, I did look him up. There was all that publicity from the divorce trial, and wow, there was some nasty stuff out there. There were these implications of strong arm tactics, extortion, bribery, but there was nothing in the way of proof."

Belle continued, "I did see a pattern in his behavior. Bobby would buy an under-performing factory and then shut it down or buy a run-down slum building and demolish it or buy a failing business and fire everybody. He did that often and it angered a lot of people. But when I would read on, he would also rebuild the factory and rehire the people into a safe environment, and rebuild the apartment building and make it affordable for low-income families who were trying to work and put a roof over the heads of their children and food on the table and take that failing business and restructure it and re-hire the dedicated employees, this time with benefits and dignity. It's like he's made his reputation on the bad things he's done but the good things he's done have remained a secret and all people know about him is his bad, cut-throat reputation. But I know, he's stood up to bullies, to gangsters, to crime lords and came out on top. He has come up against rough people and he's had to be rough too."

Emma asked her, "Do you think it's a matter of him having to fight fire with fire or does he just fight with fire?"

Belle smiled, "I guess I'm in love enough to believe he is fighting fire with fire and gives as good as he takes. Not a bad man, but a survivor who may have had to do things that he would never be proud of or even admit to."

Emma nodded with understanding, "And he is kinda hot?"

Belle actually blushed. "Is he ever. I'm not sure I like suit-Bobby or jeans-Bobby best. Both have their merits."

"Yeah, the suit gives him class and the jeans give him. . . well he looks good walking away in those jeans."

"Now, enough about my man. Tell me about you and Bae," Belle instructed.

"He looks good walking away too," Emma replied quickly then added, "We're seeing each other, trying to find what we have in common besides having the flaming pee-purple hots for each other. You know me, Belle. I don't like to get involved with the guys I'm sleeping with, not that I sleep with all that many guys, hardly any, in fact. But I don't like to get involved."

"And you are getting involved?"

"Maybe," Emma admitted.

"And you're nervous?"

"Maybe," Emma again admitted.

"And maybe a little excited?"

"Oh the man gets me more than a little excited," Emma told her.

"Do you think that Bobby is ok with you and his son?" Belle thought she knew the answer to this one.

"He seems ok with it," Emma said thoughtfully. "He's never said one way or another, at least to me."

"I know Bobby likes you. . ." Belle told her. "A lot. He respects you. You're one of the few people who will stand up to him."

"I must be crazy. I keep forgetting how powerful he is because mostly I just find him aggravating." Emma might have said more, but at that moment, Gold and Bae entered the room.

"Darling," Belle greeted Gold with a big smile. "I'm out now."

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, "Let's hope you stay out." He glanced up at the ever-present IV lines. Yes, she was still on saline, antibiotic and, yes, there it was, oxycontin and generic Xanax – mainlined. She was going to be quite the happy camper _maybe now would be a good time to ask her to marry him again._

"Let me show you what I have learned," Belle announced to him. "I can make the bed go up and down . . . and raise the back . . . and raise my knees." She demonstrated each task. "I can dim the lights . . . and make all these lights go on and off. I can change channels on the television. All from this handy portable device," she held up her remote. "It will make phone calls. It will call the nurse."

"Excellent. You seem to have mastered the remote," Gold responded quietly with a hint of a smile. "Is there anything, anything I can get for you?"

"They keep feeding me crackers."

"Do you want some crackers?"

"No. I'm tired of crackers," Belle told him. "I'm glad you're here. I was afraid you might be mad at me," she confessed.

"No. You were right. It wasn't the time or the place. I'll pick another time and another place and try again," he told her.

"Thank you."

Emma had listened in and followed the conversation up until this last bit, "What wasn't the time or place?"

"I'll fill you in," Bae told her taking her by the elbow. "Dad, will you two be ok?"

"We will," Gold had not taken his eyes off of Belle. _Her color was rosier. Her energy seemed up. There was more of the twinkle in her blue eyes. She looked better. _

"Then I'm going to take Emma back to my place," Bae told him.

Emma nearly pulled away from Bae. "What?! What if I don't want to go? You didn't ask or anything. I might have other plans."

Bae stopped at the door of the room and turned her to face him. "Do you have other plans?"

"No, but that's not the point," Emma began.

Bae pulled her in closer. "I want to spend time with you. We've got to see if there is anything else besides toilet paper that we have in common." He pulled her on out the door.

"Toilet paper?" Belle asked Gold.

"I have no idea," he told her.

"You like them together, don't you?" Belle asked him.

"I do," he admitted. He turned his attention back to Belle. "Bae did not have good relationship models growing up. Milah and I both messed up, royally. She was over-involved in herself and I was over-involved in my work. We spend so much time fighting that I think it must have scared Bae off of being in serious relationships or even non-serious relationships." He considered a moment and added, "Scared me off relationships," then he smiled at her his eyes crinkling in the corners, "until I met the right woman."

Belle smiled back at him and asked in a small voice, "Do you know what you did wrong?"

Gold knew what she was referring to. He nodded, "I made a decision, an important decision about us, without involving you. I tried to dictate, tried to control, tried to decide what you were to do with your life."

She finished for him, "and no one decides about my life, my fate, but me."

"I apologize," he said the words slowly as if they were difficult to say, foreign to him. "I'm very sorry. Please forgive me."

"Of course. We love each other. We understand when we make mistakes. We talk about it. We try to find common ground. We forgive each other and we move on," she shared her feelings with him.

"Thank you," Gold told her. "Understand, I've never been with anyone like you, with someone who appreciates honesty over deception. Please, please be patient with me, please, please be understanding."

Belle squeezed his hand in response and Gold stood beside her for a while, just enjoying being close to her.

"Can I brush your hair?" he asked suddenly.

"But it's awful right now. I haven't been able to wash it. . ." she stopped herself. This was a gesture on his part, his way of further apologizing and making amends. She nodded.

_Later different members of the hospital staff would stop by and catch the older man carefully, gently brushing through the tangled locks of the pretty blue-eyed woman who was still bedridden and healing. It was hard to miss in his gestures his depth of caring and concern. Several times, he would stop and the couple would lean towards each other and plant soft kisses on cheeks, lips, even fingers. The two only had eyes for each other. _

_Thirty-six days down, six to go._

**As always, thanks to my awesome reviewers: jewel415, cheesyteal'c, thedoctorsgirl42, RoxyMoron, ctdg, MyraValhallah, guest ( as in LMAO), RaFire, The Prince's Phoenix, juju0268, ****Grace5231973****, Just 2 Dream of You, EevyLynn, DruidKitty, Aletta-Feather, AnEloquentFacade, Vinaplains and LoveIsLayered (Walmart)**

**And thanks to all of you who have recently added this to your list of Follows and Favorites. txm**

_Next: Bae and Emma continue to search for their common ground_

_Gold continues his campaign against Facilier_

_Gold makes another decision (without talking with Belle)_


	37. Tangerines, Earl Grey, Mushrooms

**OUT OF THE ASHES**

**Chapter 37**

**Tangerines, Earl Grey, Mushrooms and Falafel**

Belle woke up before Gold. She raised her bed and looked around the room, orienting herself. This room was much nicer than the dark, grey ICU room, much nicer. She barely remembered that place and, upon retrospect, she realized that was probably a good thing.

Right now, she was in considerable discomfort – _discomfort, who was she kidding? She was in some real pain. _

She rang for a nurse.

"Yes, Miss French," a voice from the front desk came back to her.

"I seem to be in some pain," she said.

"I'll send in your nurse."

Gold had heard the voices and roused from his place on the couch. "Belle, can I get you anything?" he was instantly standing by her bedside.

"I've already rang for the nurse," she told him.

Gold nodded and stood quietly next to the bed, not wanting to hover, not wanting to interfere, but definitely wanting to be helpful if he could be so.

The nurse came in. It was a pleasant faced older woman, short, round, dressed in pale green scrubs. "Hello Miss French, Mr. Spinner. I'm Angela Potts, your nurse on this next shift. Now, dear, you said you were in some pain?"

Belle instantly liked the older woman. She projected a kindly, gentle, competent air. She reminded Gold of Nurse Lucas – kind, but no nonsense.

"Yes," Belle answered. "The pain woke me up and I stay a bit confused about time. I don't know if I'm due anything. Can you help me out?"

"Yes, I can, darling." Nurse Potts looked over the computer screen with Belle's information on it. "Yes, yes. Well, it looks like they changed you and put you on oral medication and, oh dear, you are definitely due for some. I'll get something for you right away and then I'll check out everything else."

After the woman had left, Belle said to Gold, "She seems nice."

"Yes, she does," he had remained standing by the bed and was still there, when Nurse Potts reappeared with a small white paper cup with a single dark yellow pill and a glass of water. Gold glanced at the pill and raised his eyebrows. Nurse Potts continued, "I suggest you try to eat a few crackers with this." She handed Belle a couple of saltines still in their plastic wrappers.

Belle made a face when presented with the crackers, but she dutifully took the medication and began to nibble on the crackers. She cooperated with the blood pressure check and temperature check. Nurse Potts checked the levels in her IV fluids.

"Now dear, breakfast will be coming up in about two hours. Do you think you'll want anything before then? We have yogurt and applesauce. There might be a nice banana still around. I didn't see any dietary restrictions."

"How about some tea?" Gold offered.

"I can wait, thank you."

"All right then, dear. If you change your mind, just ring for me," Nurse Potts gave her a smile and left.

"I'm so sorry you're in pain, Belle. I wish I could trade places with you," Gold told her honestly.

"I'm sure darling. But I'm getting better every day."

_Forty milligrams of oxycodone. You should be feeling pretty fly!_

000000

The night before, Bae had taken Emma back to his hotel room. Truth be told it was far plusher than her apartment, which was sparsely and simply furnished. They had spent the night together and he had awakened with her kissing him. He was lying on his back and she was lying mostly on top of him.

"Tangerine," he said without preamble.

She stopped what she was doing, "What?!"

"Tangerine," he repeated. "If I do something and you want me to stop, you are to say 'tangerine.' Do you understand?"

"What are you going to do to me?" Emma asked puzzled _and slightly alarmed_.

"Nothing to cause you any pain. I just want to put you under me," and he grabbed her arms, pining them to her sides, and rolled her under him.

Emma immediately began to try to dislodge him trying to push him away once he released her arms. "No, I want to be on top," she told him.

Bae ignored her pleas and pressed himself against her, letting her push against him, thrash under him and try to dodge his kisses by turning her head. He used his weight against her. He managed to slip his knees between hers and began to pressure her legs apart, affording him entrance into her heat.

"No, stop," she began to plead with him, her movements increasing almost to a panicked level as she realized he was going to have her whether she was willing or not. _But here she was willing, very willing. And she had an out. He had given her an out. She could stop him any time. _

Emma liked to be the one on top, the one in charge, the one directing the action, controlling the pace, leading the activities. Bae wasn't allowing this. He had her beneath him and she couldn't free herself from his weight, from his grasp, from his power. For the first time in a very long, Emma felt that someone else was in control.

"Look at me," he commanded her and she managed to lift her eyes to his. "You are so beautiful," he told her. "You are so remarkable. I know you like to be on top, but so do I. And," he began kissing her hard, "right now, I'm in the mood to be on top."

He entered her and felt her come apart for him. She clung to him, gasping for air, shaking with the force of her unexpected release.

Bae had not expected her yielding, certainly not so quickly, not so intensely. He slipped his hands under her shoulders to hold onto her and began to stimulate them both.

She fell apart again. He quickly followed her to his own fall.

Emma was trembling. She was shaken, her response to the man had been unexpected, disorienting. Everything about this relationship was disorienting.

"That was pretty intense. Are you all right?" Bae was asking her. He was gasping also, his response to her far beyond anything that he had ever experienced. This relationship was perplexing, more complex than anything he's ever been involved with.

She managed to nod.

He kissed her and rolled off of her, continuing to hold and comfort her.

Emma lay quietly beside him for a moment. "What is going on between us? Bae, I have never felt about any one like I'm feeling about you. Anybody else had pulled that dominant shit and I would have 'tangerined' his ass and been outta here and gone, but with you . . . I just . . . let you."

Bae breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. It's different for me, too. It's like I've known you forever, for a long time. I'm so comfortable with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to hear what you have to say. You're funny. You're sweet. You're passionate."

"Never been called sweet before," she told him. "Well, I think you're brilliant and kind. . . and exciting," she smiled at him.

"Are we. . . are we. . . "Bae hesitated, "Emma, are we starting to fall in love with each other?"

"Are you feeling it too? I don't know. I just don't know. I don't know that I've ever been in love. I mean, I've had people I've cared about, but love, well, I don't know," Emma was just as hesitant.

They were quiet for awhile.

"What do you think we should do?" Emma asked.

"I think we should keep seeing each other and see if what we have is just passion that will flame out or if it's something more."

"All right," Emma agreed. "I guess we can do that. Not like we're making a commitment to each other. We're just hanging out with each other to see what happens, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bae replied. "That sounds like what we should do."

Emma eased herself out of the bed and re-dressed. "I've got work to get to."

"Lunch?" Bae asked.

"Probably not. Sorry," she told him regretfully. "How about dinner and maybe we stay at my apartment tonight?"

"Love to," Bae told her. "I'll pick you up from your place at six." Bae got up himself and got ready.

As they rode in his car back to her work, Bae asked her, "Emma, do you have a really nice dress, something you could wear to a wedding, a posh day-time wedding?"

"No, do I need one?"

"I should've asked you before but I guess I was expecting it would all crash and burn before it got to this point. I'd like you to go with me to my mother's wedding."

"Milah's wedding! That circus!"

"Yeah, it's going to be a circus, all right. Do you think you might have time this afternoon to look for something. I'd. . . uh. . . oh, Emma this is awkward." He took a deep breath, "I know you're a federal employee and you don't make a lot of money, so it would make me more comfortable if you would let me pay for the dress."

Emma considered, "What price range are we looking at here?"

"Well, there will likely be people there whose dresses cost more than my mom's shoes and that's saying a lot. I'd be happy to advance you four figures."

"A thousand dollars for one dress?! I should be able to buy a couple of dresses for that money. There's a bridal shop on Lexington Avenue that might help me out. I should be able to duck out for a little while this morning. You have a favorite color?"

"For you," Bae considered, "Red. I'd like to see you in red. If not red, then black."

Emma nodded and sat with Bae while he drove her back to the police station, kissed her soundly and dropped her off.

Then he went on to the hospital where he found his father and Belle in the room.

Belle had finished picking over her breakfast. Gold was sitting back at his table-desk rearranging his stacks of papers. "Oh good, Bae, I was hoping you might be able to hang with Belle this morning. I need to connect with Dr. Hopper, make a couple of calls and meet Ms. Schentz for a business lunch. Are you available?"

"Sure dad, if Miss French won't mind me . . . uh. . . hanging."

"Not at all. We can get to know each other. We can watch the shopping channels together," Belle told him, smiling vacantly at him. Bae could tell she was still on some kind of happiness cocktail.

Gold rose from the desk and gave her a quick kiss. "I've got the list of things you want from the apartment. You know how to get in touch if you think of anything else or if you need me for anything else."

She nodded, "I do, darling. I'll be fine."

Bae was left alone with his father's slightly doped up girlfriend.

"How would you feel about some of the cooking channels?" he asked her.

"Sure. You cook?" Belle asked him.

"I do, a little," he told her and sat in a chair next to her.

Belle changed the channel on television and found a show with someone doing something about neat food that could be found at diners.

Bae quickly engaged in the show and it was a moment before he realized that Belle was watching him.

He looked at her, and she ducked her head, "I'm sorry. It's just that we really haven't had a chance to talk together, have we?"

"No, we haven't. I got a little distracted," he admitted.

"By Emma?"

"By Emma," he agreed. "Have you known her long?"

"I guess awhile. She's been around, in and out . . . and then more than a year ago, she moved in below me and began working at the co-op bakery."

"She's a friend, though, right?"

"A good friend," Belle told him.

"I really like her. Really," Bae confessed. "I think we may have something. We've opted to just keep company and see where things take us."

"Very sensible," Belle observed. "Your father is not someone who is willing to just see were things go, is he?"

"No, he's not. He likes to take charge and move things forward. I understand that you turned down his proposal." Bae was curious to hear her side.

"Proposal? He didn't actually propose. He just told me that he'd decided that we should go ahead and get married because everyone thought we were engaged."

Bae sighed. "Ouch. My father is a brilliant man, but sometimes. . . "

"He can be stupid," Belle told Bae. Then she realized what she had said, and put her hand to her mouth, "I probably shouldn't use that word, but I am kinda doped up, so I'll be sorry about it later."

Bae couldn't help but smile, "Maybe, but you're right. He can be stupid about some things. He doesn't make, well maybe I should say, he hasn't made good choices about women. You've met his exes."

"Oh, have I ever," Belle had to agree. "Quite the collection of harpies. . . oh, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't being saying stuff like that," she caught herself again.

"No, harpies is a pretty accurate description," Bae had to agree with her. "You know my dad stuck me with walking my mother down the aisle?"

Belle giggled. "I guess my being shot did have an upside for him, didn't it?"

"Maybe, but I'm sure he would have rather walked my mother down the aisle twenty times over than have you shot once."

Belle became very serious. "Yeah, you're right. He's been pretty shaken up about this. I've been very worried about him."

Bae had to shake his head, "You two, both of you, worry more about the other person than yourself. I don't think my father has ever felt that way about anyone."

"He does about you,' Belle told him.

"Sometimes I think that, but other times. . . "

"Your father is a rather difficult man to love, isn't he?"

"Got that right," Bae agreed.

"He's really very sweet, you know," Belle told him. "There's so much goodness in him. . . and he so wants to do the right thing. He wants to help people and make their lives better."

"Miss French, you are the only one who sees those things in him, you know that?"

"Please call me Belle. I see it. I don't know why no one else seems to. He doesn't see it himself. He still thinks that he is this monster. I love him so much Bae," Belle's voice cracked and she started to tear up.

Bae was surprised and immediately went over to her to hold her hand.

"I was so stupid trying to get away from Facilier. I thought I was being clever, but I got myself shot. I'm sorry I'm crying," she wiped her nose on the sheet, but the tears continued to fall. "I haven't cried in front of your father or my friends or the nurses or anyone else, but I'm so ashamed and guilty feeling. I've put everyone to so much trouble. And everyone is being so nice." Tears flowed out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this with you. I don't really even know you."

"Oh Belle, it's quite all right. You almost died. And it wasn't your fault. Nobody, nobody sees it as your fault. Everyone thinks that you were incredibly brave and clever."

"I don't feel clever or brave. I felt like I was doing a brave thing, but I never felt brave. I felt scared."

"Of course, but you did the brave thing, no matter how you were feeling. My father is incredibly impressed with you and proud of you."

"I had thought if I did the brave thing, then the brave feelings would follow, but it didn't work like that." Belle had stopped crying but her eyes were red-rimmed.

"There are a lot of people out there who think you are a hero."

"Oh no. Not me. I think what Daniel did was brave and Emma's brave, but not me." She blew her nose on the tissue that Bae had given her. "Uh, Bae, you won't tell anyone. . . "

"Belle promise me that you'll talk with Dr. Hopper, dad's psychiatrist. He's very good and I think he'll make you feel better."

"Oh, I don't know," Belle protested.

"If you promise to talk with Hopper, I will promise not to tell anyone about this."

Belle scrunched up her face. "You can be a bit like your father, you know?"

"Yes, so I've been told," he smiled at her and added, "Somehow I don't think you meant that as a compliment."

0o0

Gold had several things on his to-do list. There were several overseas phone calls to make _that Belle didn't really need to hear_. He was going to have to call in some favors, maybe even sweeten the pot on these little deals, he knew. Facilier had a number of off-shore bank accounts but the man hadn't been clever enough to spread his money around widely, nor had he chosen what might be considered 'secure' banks. The money had been put into borderline third world countries, many unstable, that had banks that welcomed foreign funds, no taxes, no questions, but, these were also countries without consistently stable government.

_You would have thought people would have learned after Noriega took over the banks in Nicaragua – don't put your money in a country where the leadership might just take away from you. _

Several of these 'presidents' owed Gold big, for a wide variety of favors, starting back with the weapons trading more than thirty years ago, large 'contributions,' aka 'bribes' for favorable trading agreements, even generous special gifts to young, pretty, temperamental spouses. Gold was sure, if it were put to them the correct way, they would be' shocked and appalled' to find they were harboring drug money and would immediately 'take steps.' That would take care of an enormous chunk of Facilier's fortune.

He made several more calls on his way to connect with Hopper. He had promised Hopper that he'd show him around downtown Asheville. Hopper was curious as to just how the town had fostered Gold's recovery.

"How is Miss French?" Hopper asked as soon as he got in the car.

"Still doped up a bit, but seems to be recovering. I would have thought she would have some trauma after having a gun pointed at her and being shot, but I'm not seeing it."

"You think she's in love with you?" Hopper asked him, abruptly.

Gold bit his lip. "I know I'm in love with her and she tells me she loves me."

Hopper nodded. "Then she could be protecting you. She may be holding things in around you, putting on a brave face."

Gold considered, "That sounds actually reasonable. Very Belle-like. Not wanting to bother other people, wanting to deal with things herself. What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. If she wants to protect you, then you should let her. But be sure there are some people around her that she can talk with if she wants to. Don't keep praising her for being 'so brave,' praise her for having been smart enough to survive the incident and let her know if there is anything, anything she wants to talk to you about, you're prepared to listen."

"Pretty good advice. I guess that's why I pay you more than I would pay an attorney."

"Now,you are looking much better," Hopper told him. "I was very uncomfortable letting you go out by yourself after the. . . uh. . .incident."

"Well, I'd made a promise to Bae that I would hang on for six weeks and I do try to keep my promises."

They parked in the garage and Gold took him across the street to the apartment building. "Nothing special. I have the penthouse and there are four other apartments, two on each floor and the shops underneath. This is Belle's shop," he took Hopper in to the bookstore.

"Belle's Books and Candles?" Hopper asked. "What is this about supplies for the practitioner?" Hopper had read the small print under the name of the store.

"There's a large pagan community here in Asheville," Gold explained tersely. "Now, let me introduce you to Ruby, the best barista in ten city blocks." He made the introductions from the barista to the psychiatrist.

"Archie," he promptly told Ruby, "Call me Archie."

"How are things going Ruby?" he asked Belle's number two girl. She gave him a big thumbs up.

"Pretty good. Lotsa locals keep coming by to keep up with how Belle is doing. The shop is doing regular tourist trade business with that little extra. Let me fix you two some coffee." She prepped Gold's usual and then looked at Dr. Hopper. "Now I don't have Belle's gift, but you look like an Earl Grey Tea man. What can I get you?"

"Actually, tea sounds lovely."

Gold was a bit puzzled. He had known the good doctor for more than ten years and had never known him to drink tea.

The two men left the store with to-go cups and Gold took Hopper on a walking tour. "This is one of my usual walks. I thought I was going to die an agonizing death the first couple of days, my poor knee felt like it was on fire, from the walk and the three flights of stairs to the apartment. I managed to push through and things got better."

"I guess that's been true for a lot of things," Hopper observed.

"What?! Pushing through and getting better? I guess so." Gold thought about it. "I think you're right. That's pretty much how I handled those first few days."

Gold pointed out several of his favorite restaurants. Hopper picked up one of the free maps of the city which were scattered plentifully around the town. "I think I might like to spend some more time just wandering around, seeing what I can find," Hopper told him. "I know you have some other appointments. I should be fine on my own."

"Well, you'll find many of the street performers on Wall Street and some in front of Malaprops. Sometimes there will be some up near Pack Place. I do have one appointment and then this lunch commitment. I could pick you up later this afternoon."

"That would be fine. Should I meet you back at Belle's Books, say around four?"

"Four should be plenty of time. You have a phone and you have my number if anything comes up."

Gold glanced at his watch. 10:00. He had one appointment to get to before his lunch date with Mallie. He walked down Broadway to Hiawasee and connected with the realtor his company had worked with before, Cogsworth and Lumiere. It was Mr. Cogsworth himself, _stuffy toff,_ waiting on him.

"Mr. Spinner, sir, David Cogsworth. I believe we have done business before."

Gold nodded. "I believe so. You got my message that I was interested in this building." He pointed to the dark grey three story building built into the hillside (the side road was so steep that up on Broadway you would enter in from the second story but down on Hiawasee you would come out on the ground floor.)

"Exactly. The building is in some disrepair but in an excellent location," Cogsworth was on board.

"Parking could be an issue. I'd have to buy my employees a monthly garage pass."

"You would, but I suspect you realize if you re-locate your headquarters to Asheville, the city might be willing to grant you some special rates."

Gold gave him a tight smile. "I would assume as much. I don't like dealing with city officials. You could help with that?"

"I could, indeed sir."

"There are already some tenants on the ground floor. What is their status?"

"Their lease is up in eight months."

"I would likely want them to vacate when the lease is up as I would anticipate needing the additional room. Go ahead and give them notice."

"You've seen the asking price?"

"Yes, it's priced fifty thousand over the actual value. I will give them twenty-five thousand less than their asking price which still makes it over-priced. This will be my one and only offer. They have two days to get back to me. I will pay cash for the building and, by next Monday, I will have an architect looking over the interior to recommend for some changes I will want to make. I will also be hiring some reputable contractors, including some painters. This building is drab and I'd like to see it a bit cheerier."

"Sir, that's very quick, if I may say so."

"You may. Have the paperwork brought to me at Room 418 at Mission Hospital. I would have drawn up a contract myself, but I'm not licensed here in North Carolina and real estate law is not my specialty. I will be at the hospital, I'm sure, until at least the end of this week. Otherwise I will be at the apartment on Broadway and Aston."

"Of course sir. No problem."

"Excellent."

0000000

Gold checked "buy new headquarters for Magicell" off his to-do list. He had walked by this building several times on his morning walks and had thoroughly checked it out. It was in easy walking distance from the apartment. He hadn't talked about this move with Belle.

Not that he was moving his mega-company to Asheville, just the battery subdivision. The rest could stay in Manhattan, with Bae watching over it. He had talked with several of the original Cricket Seven and at least three of them were willing to move south, including Leroy.

Walking back to the parking lot along Broadway, he saw Emma coming towards him.

"Miss Swan," he greeted her pleasantly.

"Mr. Spinner," she responded back.

"I thought you'd still be drowning in paperwork," he told her.

"Yeah, I am, but I needed to get this dress. . ." Emma stopped and looked hard at him, "Hey, come to think of it, this is your fault."

Gold did his best to look innocent and bewildered.

"You bailed on walking Milah down the aisle and corralled Bae into it. He wants me to go as his plus one."

"Now Emma, truth be told, he'd have gone to the wedding whether I went or not and he would have wanted you as his plus one."

"But now there's a chance I'll be on camera. My employers don't like me to be on camera."

Gold glanced at his watch. He still had time, it wasn't even quite eleven. His lunch with Mallie was not until one and he was planning on being just a bit late. "I'll help. Come on." He led a protesting Emma into the posh dress shop. They sold mostly wedding and bridesmaids' dresses, along with mother-of-the-bride and prom clothes, but Emma thought she'd have her best shot here.

She watched as the staff fell over themselves to greet Robert Spinner, not that they recognized him, she didn't think that. It was just that aura of money and power he projected – not an odd perception given his Armani suit and tailored shirt.

"This young woman needs a very nice dress for an outdoor, afternoon wedding. The event is being televised so she will want something very elegant."

The saleswoman looked Emma over. "Size six?" she asked.

Emma nodded.

"Any particular color?"

"Gold, red or black, I think," Gold spoke up. They had offered him a comfortable seat.

Emma was led off, huffing just a bit. Gold was enjoying himself. One of his minor talents was recognizing what looked good on a female. _Milah had actually honed that talent by repeatedly asking him which outfit looked better on her. She tended towards a floozie-style and they had found, early on, that his opinion often veered toward the conservative and the more sophisticated — i.e. the classier. When Milah had started listening to him, she had begun to get noticed for her style and taste. _He wanted Emma, as his son's date, to outshine the celebrities and near-celebrities that would be flaunted in this circus of an event. Too bad there wasn't time to get something designed for her.

Emma came out in the first pick, a simple square neck black sheath. It certainly showed off her figure but he felt it too plain for the event.

The second pick was a slinky gold lame halter top dress. He thought it looked too 1980's.

The third was a red chiffon. Too old.

The fourth was a clingy red dress that flared out into an asymmetrical hemline. It hugged her up top and then fell away. It was simple yet elegant.

"Put that one aside."

Emma tried on four more dresses, including one emerald green two-piece dress with an pencil skirt. It was beaded and very elegant. It matched her eyes. "I like this one."

"But it's not suitable for an afternoon wedding," he told her.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked her.

"I liked that first black one," she told him.

"Very well." He called over the saleswoman and talked quietly with her. The woman nodded and smiled at him.

"Emma, trust me on this. The red dress with the flared skirt is perfect for where you'll be. Do you have shoes?"

"Dr. Martin's," she told him.

He closed his eyes. "Did Bae advance you any money for the dress?"

"Yeah, although of couple of these were more than what he gave me."

"I'll take care of the dress. Take the money he gave you and go over to Tops to get a pair of nice shoes. Remember you've got a flight of stairs to walk down and you'll be walking on rocks. I'll have the dress delivered to the bookstore this afternoon."

As they left together Emma turned to him, "You know, this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm not a shopper and dress shopping is one of my least favorite things to do."

"I thought as much. Now personally, I enjoy watching a beautiful woman make herself more beautiful and a dress certainly does accentuate the female form."

Emma blushed. "Sometimes, if you weren't involved with my best friend and if I weren't seeing your son, sometimes. . ." she shook her head, "but then I wake up and remember how much you aggravate me."

He stood a quiet moment looking into her eyes. "Come to work for me Emma. Your job is very dangerous and I worry about you and I worry about Bae becoming seriously involved with someone in a dangerous job. I pay very well, more than your current salary, I'm sure."

"Oh wow, no, thank you. If I were working for you, I wouldn't be able to call you an asshole, at least not to your face."

He had to smile at her, "We could put that into your contract if you like. 'Emma may call her boss an asshole to his face whenever she deems he is being such.'"

"Tempting, but I'm gonna stick with my true calling for now," she told him.

"The door's always open, Emma," he said as she walked away from him. _He smiled, he had had an idea._

OooooO

Gold made another quick call to his concierge on the way to Rezazz's. There were a couple things he would need help with. He knew the wedding was bearing down on them and would be televised and then, well he'd had another idea for Thursday that he hoped Belle would enjoy. He needed something delivered to the hospital room.

He'd had major second thoughts about meeting Mallie at Rezaz's. In many ways it was _their_ restaurant, the first really nice one he had taken Belle to on their first sorta date together. But it had been the only one near the hospital that he could think of when he made the appointment with Mallie.

He managed to be ten minutes late. Mallie was waiting for him, having already had a glass of wine and she was ecstatic.

"Bobby, I am so curious what you've got going now. You gave me that battery scoop. I was thinking this was an engagement story – the word is out all over that you and Miss French are engaged."

"We're not engaged," Gold told Mallie. "Miss French is recuperating and that is the most important thing right now. No, this is entirely unrelated to my personal life."

Mallie leaned in. She was a well-dressed, very attractive woman. She had become good friends with Regina during the trial and knew there had been a brief affair between the two. She also knew that Bobby had been the one to end things.

"I have a job offer for you," he began.

She sat up. "I'm under contract with the Entertainment Channel for at least another year."

"They'll release you. They owe me . . . um, a favor," he smiled. "And I'm their landlord. I understand you've always wanted to do a more serious news program."

"Oh god, yes. Talking about divorces and babies and extra-marital affairs. I do it and I do it well, but it's all fluff and I want something more substantive, something more important. I want to be able to earn a Pulitzer before I'm thirty-five and I'm not going to be able to do that by finding out who some celebrity-of-the-moment's baby daddy is."

"I'm thinking along the lines of something investigative. You would have a staff and you would report on different cases. Probably a half hour format but I'd be willing to do something longer. I'm thinking weekdays."

Mallie was touched. "My dream job. Of course I'd want to do this. But. . . " she hesitated, "you never do anything for anyone without expecting something in return. I'm still waiting for the hammer to fall from the Battery Scoop you gave me. What do you want?"

"I like how you handled the battery announcement and when this job came up, I thought that you'd be perfect. From time to time, I will be asking you to investigate specific matters."

"I want to be on the up and up. I don't want to be fabricating shit about people or companies."

"Of course not. But we both know you have a knack for presenting information in a clever manner, sometimes telling only parts of the truth or just one side of an issue. You're good at using the media to lead people in the direction you want them to go. I saw what you were doing with my reputation during my divorce. It pissed me off and infuriated me, but at the same time, I recognized a master at work. Are you interested?"

"You bet, especially if you can get me out of my contract with EC." Mallie sat back, enjoying her second glass of the wine he'd gotten for her. "Who or what do you want me to go after first?" she asked him.

"Dr. Faciler, a drug dealer, gun runner, who knows what else he's into. I want you to dig up every bit of dirt you can on the man. I want you to follow his trial and make this a major news event. It shouldn't be hard to make him into a bad guy."

She thought about it a moment and then smiled back at him, "Bobby, after I finish with him, you'll think all I did to you was chase you around with fly swatter."

He pulled out a contract from his inside jacket pocket, "Take this with you, read it over and get back with me. I can get you set up within a short time. Be thinking of some theme music for your show."

Mallie had to laugh at this. She took the contract.

"Now, you will be covering Milah's wedding?" he asked.

"Of course, that's what has brought me to town. We think it will be bigger than William and Kate's wedding. Major rating's boost, even though her show is not on EC."

"There is someone I want to be sure you get on camera," he gave her a slow smile.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Gold went up to the apartment and got what he hoped were the items Belle had wanted, some moisturizing cream, some rose and lavender scented soap, her Nook with its charger and then had stayed a moment talking with Susie, the White Cat. He knew Darwin had taken to staying full time in the bookstore with Ashley for company now that Belle wasn't there to haul him back and forth. He figured Susie was bored.

She had watched him as he bustled around the room gathering up things on his list. He sat down in his chair, relaxing his back and double checking the list with the items. Susie hesitantly approached him, jumping up onto his chair and walking onto his lap. She purred.

He patted her, "I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder. Belle misses you too, girl. I'd take you to see her, but I don't think the hospital would approve. You want to know what I've been up to? Well, I have these three things I want to accomplish."

The cat made a purring sound mixed with a meow. She seemed interested in what he had to say.

"I've decided to put my Magicell headquarters here and I'm in the process of buying another building to put it all in. It's in easy walking distance, so I hope my plans with Belle all work out or this could be really awkward. My second thing is taking down Facilier and I'm well on my way of closing out his bank accounts, evicting him from his property, shutting off his suppliers and dealers and, what may be most important, letting everyone know what he is."

The cat purred and shifted in his lap. "Ah yes, the third thing is convincing Belle to marry me. That is proving to be difficult. I botched my first effort, but I'm pretty sure I know what I did wrong. I was too bossy, dictatorial, telling her what to do, not asking her. I will try again very soon. This time I will point out how advantageous our marriage will be. I plan to make a strong rational argument that she won't be able to resist."

The cat purred and looked up at him. "Oh no, that's not a major thing, no, it's just a little side project. Getting my son and Miss Swan together. Couple of things happening in that situation, for sure." He patted the cat, gave her some extra food and went on out downstairs to find Hopper.

Gold reconnected with Hopper who was in a heated discussion with Ruby, and then dropped him off at the Hotel before heading back to the Hospital. As he came into the room carrying two bags, he found Bae and Belle in their own discussion of how to cook mushrooms.

Bae was explaining, "The oil should be hot, otherwise you end of stewing them instead of frying them. And you never want to crowd them. If you do it right, you will get that perfect umami flavoring."

Belle was shaking her head. "We'll have to have you cook for us sometime."

"Oh, I don't know if I'm ready for that," he told her. They both looked up to see Gold.

"You look tired," Belle told him promptly.

"Been busy," he replied. "You look wonderful. I love you," he told, glad to say it first for a change.

"And I love you," she grinned back at him. "Your son has been wonderful and probably needs to get out of here and get ready for his date tonight with Emma."

"Belle, I had a wonderful time," Bae told her.

"Thank you, Bae. I think we can become good friends," Belle told him and from her bed, as she could, she gave him a hug before he ducked out.

"How'd it go?" Gold asked, not willing to talk about his day with her.

"Wonderful. I got up and sat in the chair for ten whole minutes and then got up a second time and walked out of the room and back. The nurses are very proud of me."

"I am too, and impressed."

"And I learned from Ms. Potts that her son is an EMS worker and she thinks he was one that was in the ambulance when they brought me here. His name is Chip."

Gold nodded, "I think that's right."

"The rest of the day your son and I watched cooking shows. He knows a lot about food prep, I'm telling you. And, oh yes, they think I might be ready to go home Sunday, if I have a full-time nurse." She was looking at him, her blue eyes wide and doleful. "I told them I didn't know what I would be ready to do. Sunday is your last day here, isn't it? I mean, your vacation is over then. I didn't know where you would be Monday."

He came and sat down next to her. He took her hand. "Sunday is the last day of my vacation, yes," he told her. Right now, I don't know what Monday will bring either. Certainly whether I'm still here or not, I will be happy to look into a full-time nurse for you."

Belle nodded. "What's in the bags?" she asked after a moment.

"The things you asked for from the apartment and, " he held up the second bag, "Razaz's falafel. I had the chef do us up some special for supper."

"You sweet man! My most favorite food. Thank you. Thank you," she told him.

"It's a little early for supper. I'm going to put them in the fridge here and then find a microwave closer to time to eat."

Belle watched him. "What did you do today?" she asked him.

"Mostly stuff about Magicell. Looking for a place for it to call home."

"Was that all?"

"Mostly. I ran into Emma and went with her while she shopped for a dress for the wedding. She's going with Bae. There were three really nice dresses."

Belle narrowed her eyes, "You got her all three, didn't you?" she asked.

"She doesn't know it yet but," he looked at his watch, "she's probably finding out about it about now."

As if on cue, his phone rang. "Emma," he told Belle.

"Yes dear. . . uh huh. . . uh huh. . . I did. . . well, I thought after you had stopped me from blowing Facilier away and then stood by me when I had a couple of moments there, it was the least I could do. . . no, I didn't think a simple 'thank you' would suffice. . .that's right. . . I thought you deserved something more. . . Did you find some shoes?. . . Actually I do want to know, you're going to be in a place with cameras tomorrow. I know Bae would want you to look nice. . . uh huh. . . uh huh. . . uh huh. . . Maybe not the best time to bring this up, but did you think any more about the job offer?. . . Emma? Emma?" Gold looked over at Belle, "She hung up." He shrugged.

"Did you offer Emma a job?" Belle asked him.

"Absolutely. Whenever I meet anyone with that much talent, I'm going to try to recruit them." He opened the other bag. "Here's the stuff you'd asked for. I think I got everything."

Belle looked it over. "You're a jewel." She was about to say more when her own cell phone rang (the one he'd replaced had been powered up and provided to her with her old number). "Sorry," she mouthed. "Yes. Oh, hello Milah. How are you holding together?. . . Oh really. . . You know, pre-wedding jitters are normal. . . Of course. . . .Of course. . . We talked about this, you remember. . . All those trappings, they're nice, but they are just things. . . That's right, the most important thing is that you are joining your life with the life of the man you love. . . We talked about that too. . . Remind yourself how much you love him and how much he loves you. . . I think that taking a Xanax might not be a bad idea, but don't overdose. . . No alcohol, you know what it does to the circles under your eyes. . . Of course dear. . . That's right, we'll both be watching. . . I'm so sorry we can't be there. . . Sounds wonderful. . . Now you just relax. You're going to be all right. . . Right. . . Bye now."

Belle cut the phone off and looked at it, then at Gold, "When did I become Milah's big sister?" she asked him.

"When you were nice to her. She's never been one to have female friends and I think you may actually be her first."

"Not Regina?"

"Regina's her attorney and, at best, a paid friend." Gold had begun brushing her hair as he had done the previous night. "You don't ask anything in return. You're just nice. What you said to her was nice too."

"Well, Milah strikes me as somebody who's thinking more about how good she looks in her dress while she walking down the aisle, rather than the seriousness of the step she's taking."

He sighed, "Got that right," he agreed. "Belle, speaking of this wedding, I did a small bad thing. I know you can't have any because of the medication you're on. But I am anticipating needing to get completely shit-faced tomorrow with Milah's wedding. It's going to be on, off and on, all tomorrow and then the ceremony will be live with a replay at eight o'clock complete with highlights."

"And?"

"I have smuggled in a small bottle of hooch to consume over the course of the day tomorrow. I plan to be completely smashed by the time of the replay."

Belle considered. "Normally I'd admonish you for over-indulgence, but in this instance. . . Don't think Hopper could come through with a couple of Quaaludes?"

"Maybe, but I think I'll handle this the old-fashioned way," he held up a small bottle of scotch.

He put the bottle away in a cabinet and went back to brushing her hair. They had a quiet evening sharing the falafel, some Iron Bru he'd brought from the apartment, and just holding hands. He'd checked her IV. She was still getting some antibiotics and saline. He knew she was getting pain medication by mouth and wondered if they were still feeding her Xanax. Judging by her mood, he thought it likely.

Thirty-seven days down and five to go.

**(sorry, this chapter ran incredibly long)**

**Thanks to my AMAZING reviewers (hearing from you really helps me keep going on this): jewel415, RoxyMoron, , thedoctorsgirl42, Stargate533, Erik'sTrueAngel, DruidKitty, Just 2 Dream of You, Aletta-Feather, juju0268, cheesyteal'c, Girlyemma96, Grace5231973, AnEloquentFacade, ctdg, RaFire, EevyLynn, Lattelady, and xanimejunkie **

_NEXT: What else? The Wedding_


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